:v 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT 

William  P.VVreden 


i/  . 


3 

' 


s 


o  Joe  left  us  but  not  to  forget  us,  or 
be  forgotten.  —Pa&  131. 


Frontis. 


J.  COLE 


THE  STORY  OF  A  BOY 

by 

EMMA ,  GELLIBRAND 

L— ^ 


Illustrated  by 

CHRISTINE  WRIGHT 

and 
CHARLES  WHITLOCK  PANCOAST 


NEW  YORK 

DODGE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

220    EAST    230    STREET 


Copyright,  1907,  by 
DODGE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


00 

TZ7 


CONTENTS 

How  He  Came  to  Us 
How  He  Stayed  with  Us 
How  He  Won  Our  Hearts 
How  He  Left  Us 


7 
31 
51 

77 


634217 


t 

1 


J.  COLE 


"TTONNERD  MADAM, 

"  Wich  i  hav  seed  in  the  paper 
a  page  Boy  wanted,  and  begs  to  say 
J.  Cole  is  over  thertene,  and  I  can  clene 
plate,  wich  my  brutther  is  under  a  butler 
and  lernd  me,  and  I  can  wate,  and  no  how 
to  clene  winders  and  boots.  J.  Cole  opes 
you  will  let  me  cum.  I  arsks  8  and  all 
found,  if  you  do  my  washin  I  will  take 
sevven.  J.  Cole  will  serve  you  well  and 
opes  to  giv  sattisfaxshun.  can  cum  to- 
morrer.  J.  COLE. 

"  P.  S. — He  is  not  verry  tori  but  growin. 
My  brutther  is  a  verry  good  hite.  i  am 
sharp  and  can  rede  and  rite  and  can  hadd 
figgers,  if  you  like." 

[5] 


How  He  Came  to  Us 


CHAPTER  I 

T  HAD  advertised  for  a  page-boy,  and 
•*•  having  puzzled  through  some  dozens 
of  answers,  more  or  less  illegible  and  im- 
possible to  understand,  had  come  to  the 
last  one  of  the  packet,  of  which  the  fore- 
going is  an  exact  copy. 

The  epistle  was  enclosed  in  a  clumsy 
envelope,  evidently  homemade,  with  the 
aid  of  scissors  and  gum,  and  was  written 
on  a  half-sheet  of  letter  paper,  in  a  large 
hand,  with  many  blots  and  smears,  on 
pencilled  lines. 

There  was  something  quaint  and 
straightforward  in  the  letter,  in  spite  of 
the  utter  ignorance  of  grammar  and  spell- 
,[9] 


=00= 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 

6?=^^ 


ing,  and  while  I  smiled  at  the  evident 
pride  in  the  "  brutther  "  who  was  a  "  verry 
good  hite,"  and  the  offer  to  take  less  wages 
if  "  I  would  do  his  washin,"  I  found  my- 
self wondering  what  sort  of  waif  upon  the 
sea  of  life  was  this  not  very  tall  person, 
over  thirteen,  who  "  would  serve  me 
well." 

I  had  many  letters  to  answer  and  sev- 
eral appointments  to  make,  and  had 
scarcely  made  up  my  mind  whether  or 
not  to  trouble  to  write  to  my  accomplished 
correspondent,  who  was  "  sharp,  and  could 
rede  and  rite,  and  hadd  figgers,"  when  a 
shadow  falling  on  the  ground  by  me  as  I 
sat  by  the  open  window,  I  looked  up,  and 
saw,  standing  opposite  my  chair,  a  boy. 
The  very  smallest  boy,  with  the  very 
largest  blue  eyes  I  ever  saw.  The  clothes 
on  his  little  limbs  were  evidently  meant 
[10] 


r 


Please'm,  it's  J.   Cole:    and   I've 
come  to  live  with  yer."     —Page  //. 


How  He  Came  to  Us 


for  somebody  almost  double  his  size,  but 
they  were  clean  and  tidy. 

In  one  hand  he  held  a  bundle,  tied  in 
a  red  handkerchief,  and  in  the  other  a 
bunch  of  wild  flowers  that  bore  signs  of 
having  traveled  far  in  the  heat  of  the  sun, 
their  blossoms  hanging  down,  dusty  and 
fading,  and  their  petals  dropping  one  by 
one  on  the  ground. 

"Who  are  you,  my  child?"  I  said, 
"  and  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

At  my  question  the  boy  placed  his 
flowers  on  my  table,  and,  pulling  off  his 
cap,  made  a  queer  movement  with  his 
feet,  as  though  he  were  trying  to  step 
backward  with  both  at  once,  and  said,  in 
a  voice  so  deep  that  it  quite  startled  me, 
so  strangely  did  it  seem  to  belong  to  the 
size  of  the  clothes,  and  not  the  wearer  : 

"  Please  'm,  it's  J.  Cole  :  and  I've  come 


n 

1 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 

>  X 

to  live  with  yer.  I've  brought  all  my 
clothes,  and  everythink." 

For  the  moment  I  felt  a  little  bewil- 
dered, so  impossible  did  it  seem  that  the 
small  specimen  of  humanity  before  me 
was  actually  intending  to  enter  anybody's 
service ;  he  looked  so  childish  and  wist- 
ful, and  yet  with  a  certain  honesty  of  pur- 
pose shining  out  of  those  big,  wide-open 
eyes  that  interested  me  in  him,  and  made 
me  want  to  know  more  of  him. 

"  You  are  very  small  to  go  into  service," 
I  said,  "and  I  am  afraid  you  could  not 
do  the  work  I  should  require;  besides, 
you  should  have  waited  to  hear  from  me, 
and  then  have  come  to  see  me,  if  I  wanted 
you  to  do  so." 

"  Yes,  I  know  I'm  not  very  big,"  said 
the  boy,  nervously  fidgeting  with  his  bun- 
dle :  "  leastways  not  in  hite,  but  my  arms 

[12] 


How  He  Came  to  Us 
< 

is  that  long,  they'll  reach  ever  so  'igh 
above  my  'ed,  and  as  for  bein'  strong,  you 
should  jest  see  me  lift  my  father's  big 
market  basket  when  it's  loaded  with 
'taters,  or  wotever  is  for  market,  and  I 
hope  you'll  not  be  angry  because  I  come 
to-day ;  but  Dick — that's  my  brutther 
Dick — he  says,  *  You  foller  my  advice, 
Joe,'  he  says,  '  and  go  arter  this  'ere  place, 
and  don't  let  no  grass  grow  under  your 
feet ;  I  knows  what  it  is  goin'  arter  places, 
there's  such  lots  a  fitin'  after  'em  that  if 
you  lets  so  much  as  a  hour  go  afore  yer 
looks  'em  up,  there's  them  as  slips  in  fust 
gets  it,  and  wen  yer  goes  to  the  door  they 
opens  it  and  sez,  "  It  ain't  no  use,  boy, 
we're  sooted,"  and  then  where  are  yer, 
I'd  like  to  know  ?  So,'  sez  he,  *  Joe,  you 
look  sharp  and  go,  and  maybe  you'll  get 
it.'  So  I  come,  mum,  and  please,  that's  all." 
['3] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


"  But  about  your  character,  my  boy,"  I 
said.  "  You  must  have  somebody  to 
speak  for  you,  and  say  you  are  honest, 
and  what  you  are  able  to  do.  I  always 
want  a  good  character  with  my  servants, 
the,  last  page-boy  I  had  brought  three 
years'  good  character  from  his  former 
situation." 

"  Lor ! "  said  Joe,  with  a  serious  look, 
"  did  he  stay  three  years  in  a  place  afore 
he  came  to  you  ?  Wotever  did  he  leave 
them  people  for,  where  he  were  so  com- 
fortable ?  If  I  stay  with  you  three  years, 
you  won't  catch  me  a  leavin'  yer,  and 
goin'  somewheres  else.  Wot  a  muff  that 
chap  was !  " 

I  explained  that  it  did  not  always  de- 
pend on  whether  a  servant  wanted  to  stay 
or  not,  but  whether  it  suited  the  employ- 
ers to  keep  him. 

C'4] 


How  He  Came  to  Us 


"P'raps  he  did  something  and  they 
give  'im  the  sack,"  murmured  Joe  ;  "  he 
was  a  flat !  " 

"  But  about  this  character  of  yours,"  I 
said ;  "  if  I  decide  to  give  you  a  trial,  al- 
though I  am  almost  sure  you  are  too 
small,  and  won't  do,  where  am  I  to  go  for 
your  character  ?  Will  the  people  where 
your  brother  lives  speak  for  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  cried  the  little  fellow,  his 
cheeks  flushing ;  "  I  know  Dick'll  ask 
'em  to  give  me  a  caricter.  Miss  Edith,  I 
often  cleaned  'er  boots.  Once  she  come 
'ome  in  the  mud,  and  was  agoin'  out  agin 
directly ;  and  they  was  lace-ups,  and  a 
orful  bother  to  do  up  even  ;  and  she  come 
into  the  stable-yard  with  'er  dog,  and 
sez  :  '  Dick,  will  you  chain  Tiger  up,  and 
this  little  boy  may  clean  my  boots  if  he 
likes,  on  my  feet?'  So  I  cleaned  'em, 


r\ 

I 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 

" 


and  she  giv'  me  sixpence ;  and  after  that, 
when  the  boots  come  down  in  the  mornin', 
I  got  Dick  always  to  let  me  clean  them 
little  boots,  and  I  kep  'em  clean  in  the 
inside,  like  the  lady's  maid  she  told  me 
not  to  put  my  'ands  inside  'em  if  they 
was  black.  Miss  Edith,  she'll  giv'  me  a 
caricter,  if  Dick  asks  'er." 

Just  then  the  visitors'  bell  rang,  and  I 
sent  my  would-be  page  into  the  kitchen 
to  wait  until  I  could  speak  to  him  again, 
and  told  him  to  ask  the  cook  to  give  him 
something  to  eat. 

"  Here  are  your  flowers,"  I  said,  "  take 
them  with  you." 

He  looked  at  me,  and  then,  as  if  ashamed 
of  having  offered  them,  gathered  them  up 
in  his  hands,  and  with  the  corner  of  the 
red  handkerchief  wiped  some  few  leaves 
and  dust-marks  off  my  table,  then  saying 
[16] 


How  He  Came  to  Us 


in  a  low  voice — "  I  didn't  know  you  'ad 
beauties  of  yer  own,  like  them  in  the  glass 
pots,  but  I'll  giv'  'em  to  the  cook."  So 
saying,  he  went  away  into  the  kitchen, 
and  my  visitors  came  in,  and  by  and  by 
some  more  friends  arrived. 

The  weather  was  very  warm,  and  we 
sat  chattering  and  enjoying  the  shade  of 
the  trees  by  the  open  French  window. 
Presently  somebody  being  thirsty,  I  sug- 
gested lemonade  and  ice,  and  I  offered 
strawberries,  and  (if  possible)  cream, 
though  my  mind  misgave  me  as  to  the 
latter  delicacy,  for  we  had  several  times 
been  obliged  to  do  without  some  of  our 
luxuries  if  they  entailed  "fetching,"  as  we 
had  no  boy  to  run  errands  quickly  on  an 
emergency  and  be  useful.  However,  I 
rang  the  bell,  and  when  the  housemaid, 
whose  temper,  since  she  had  been  what  is 
['7] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


curiously  termed  in  servants' hall  language 
"  single-handed,"  was  most  trying,  entered, 
I  said,  "  Make  some  lemonade,  Mary,  and 
ask  cook  to  gather  some  strawberries 
quickly,  and  bring  them,  with  some 
cream." 

Mary  looked  at  me  as  who  should  say, 
"  Well,  I'm  sure !  and  who's  to  do  it  all  ? 
You'll  have  to  wait  a  bit."  And  I  knew 
we  should  have  to  wait,  and  therefore  re- 
signed myself  to  do  so,  patiently,  keeping 
up  the  ball  of  gossip,  and  wondering  if 
a  little  music  later  on  would  perhaps 
while  away  the  time. 

Much  to  my  amazement,  in  less  than  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  Mary  entered  with  the 
tray,  all  being  prepared,  and  directly  I 
looked  at  the  strawberry-bowl  I  detected 
a  novel  feature  in  the  table  decoration.  A 
practiced  hand  had  evidently  been  at  work  ,* 
[18] 


How  He  Came  to  Us 


but  whose?  Mary  was  far  too  matter- 
of-fact  a  person.  Food,  plates,  knives  and 
forks,  glasses,  and  a  cruet-stand  were  all 
she  ever  thought  necessary  ;  and  even  for 
a  centre  vase  of  flowers  I  had  to  ask,  and 
often  to  insist,  during  the  time  she  was 
single-handed. 

But  here  was  my  strawberry-bowl,  a 
pretty  one,  even  when  unadorned,  with 
its  pure  white  porcelain  stem,  entwined 
with  a  wreath  of  blue  convolvulus,  and 
then  a  spray  of  white,  the  petals  just 
peeping  over  the  edge  of  the  bowl,  and 
resting  near  the  luscious  red  fruit ;  the 
cream-jug,  also  white,  had  twining  flow- 
ers of  blue,  and  round  the  lemonade- 
jug,  of  glass,  was  a  wreath  of  yellow  blos- 
soms. 

"  How  exquisite  !  "  exclaimed  we  all. 
"  What  fairy  could  have  bestowed  such  a 


V  A 

1 


— ^T) 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 
> 

treat  to  our  eyes  and  delight  to  our  sense 
of  the  beautiful  ?  " 

I  supposed  some  friend  of  the  cook's  or 
Mary's  had  been  taking  lessons  in  the  art 
of  decoration,  and  had  given  us  a  speci- 
men. 

Soon  after,  my  friends  having  gone,  I 
thought  of  J.  Cole  waiting  to  be  dis- 
missed, and  sent  for  him. 

Cook  came  in,  and  with  a  preliminary 
"  Ahem  !  "  which  I  know  of  old  meant, 
"  I  have  an  idea  of  my  own,  and  I  mean 
to  get  it  carried  out,"  said,  "Oh,  if  you 
please  'm,  if  I  might  be  so  bold,  did  you 
think  serious  of  engagin'  the  boy  that's 
waitin'  in  the  kitchen  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  ask,  Cook  ?  "  I  said. 

"  Well,  ma'am,"  she  replied,  trying  to 
hide  a  laugh,  "  of  course  it's  not  for  me  to 
presume — but  if  I  might  say  a  word  for 

[20] 


How  He  Came  to  Us 


him,  I  think  he's  the  very  handiest  and 
the  sharpest  one  we've  ever  had  in  this 
house,  and  we've  had  a  many,  as  you 
know.  Why,  if  you'd  only  have  seen 
him  when  Mary  come  in  in  her  tantrums 
at  'aving  to  get  the  tray  single-handed,  and 
begun  a-grumblin'  and  a-bangin'  things 
about,  as  is  her  way,  being  of  a  quick 
temper,  though,  as  I  tells  her,  too  slow 
a-movin'  of  herself.  As  I  were  a-sayin', 
you  should  have  seen  that  boy.  If  he 
didn't  up  and  leave  his  bread  and  butter 
and  mug  of  milk,  as  he  was  a-enjoyin'  of  as 
'arty  as  you  like,  and,  '  Look  'ere,'  says 
he,  '  giv'  me  the  jug.  I'll  make  some  fine 
drink  with  lemons.  I  see  Dick  do  it 
often  up  at  his  place.  Giv'  me  the 
squeezer.  Wait  till  I  washes  my  'ands. 
I  won't  be  a  minnit.'  Then  in  he  rushes 
into  the  scullery,  washes  his  hands,  runs 

[21] 


=00= 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


back  again  in  a  jiffy.  '  Got  any  snow 
sugar  ?  I  mean  all  done  fine  like  snow.' 
I  gave  it  him ;  and,  sure  enough,  his 
little  hands  moved  that  quick,  he  had 
made  the  lemonade  before  Mary  would 
have  squeezed  a  lemon.  '  Where  do  yer 
buy  the  cream? '  he  says  next.  '  I'll  run 
and  get  it  while  you  picks  the  straw- 
berries.' Perhaps  it  wasn't  right,  me 
a-trustin'  him,  being  a  stranger,  but  he 
was  that  quick  I  couldn't  say  no.  Up  he 
takes  the  jug,  and  was  off;  and  when  I 
come  in  from  the  garden  with  the  straw- 
berries, if  he  hadn't  been  and  put  all 
them  flowers  on  the  things.  He  begs  my 
pardon  for  interfering  like,  and  says,  '  I 
'ope  you'll  excuse  me  a-doin'  of  it,  but 
the  woman  at  the  milk-shop  said  I  might 
'av  'em ;  and  I  see  the  butler  where  Dick 
lives  wind  the  flowers  about  like  that,  and 
[22] 


=00: 


How  He  Came  to  Us 


V   l 

i 


'av  'elped  'im  often ;  and,  please,  I  paid 
for  the  cream,  because  I'd  got  two  bob  of 
my  own,  Dick  giv  me  on  my  birthday. 
Oh,  I  do  'ope,  Mrs.  Cook,'  he  says, '  that  the 
lady'll  take  me ;  I'll  serve  'er  well,  I  will, 
indeed  ; '  and  then  he  begins  to  cry  and 
tremble,  poor  little  chap,  for  he'd  been 
running  about  a  lot,  and  never  eaten  or 
drank  what  I  gave  him,  because  he 
wanted  to  help,  and  it  was  hot  in  the 
kitchen,  I  suppose,  and  he  felt  faint  like, 
but  there  he  is,  crying ;  and  just  now, 
when  the  bell  rung,  which  was  two  great 
big  boys  after  the  place,  he  says,  '  Oh, 
please  say  "  We're  sooted,"  and  ask  the 
lady  if  I  may  stay.'  So,  I've  taken  the 
liberty,  ma'am,"  said  Cook,  "  for  some- 
how I  like  that  little  chap,  and  there's  a 
deal  in  him,  I  do  believe." 

So    saying,   Cook    retired,  and,   in   a 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 



moment  J.  Cole  was  standing  in  her 
place,  the  blue  eyes  brimming  over  with 
tears,  and  an  eager  anxiety  as  to  what 
his  fate  would  be  making  his  poor  little 
hands  clutch  at  his  coat  sleeves,  and  his 
feet  shuffle  about  so  nervously,  that  I  had 
not  the  courage  to  grieve  him  by  a  re- 
fusal. 

"  Well,  Joseph,"  I  said,  "  I  have  de- 
cided to  give  you  a  month's  trial.  I 
shall  write  to  the  gentleman  who  employs 
your  brother,  and  if  he  speaks  well  of 
you,  you  may  stay." 

"And  may  I  stay  now,  please?"  he 
said.  "  May  I  stay  before  you  gets  any 
answer  to  your  letter  to  say  I'm  all 
right  ?  I  think  you'd  better  let  me ; 
there  ain't  no  boy ;  and  Mrs.  Cook  and 
Mary'll  'av  a  lot  to  do.  I  can  stay  in 
the  stable,  if  you  don't  like  to  let  me 


How  He  Came  to  Us 


be  in  the  house,  afore  you  writes  the 
letter." 

"  No,  Joe,"  I  replied,  "  you  may  not  be 
a  good,  honest  boy,  but  I  think  you  are, 
and  you  shall  stay  here.  Now,  go  back 
to  Mrs.  Wilson  and  finish  your  milk,  and 
eat  something  more,  if  you  can,  then 
have  a  good  rest  and  a  wash  ;  they  will 
show  you  where  you  are  to  sleep,  and  at 
dinner,  this  evening,  I  shall  see  if  you 
can  wait  at  table." 

"  Thank  you  very  kindly,"  said  the 
boy,  his  whole  face  beaming  with  de- 
light, "  and  I'll  be  sure  and  do  everythink 
I  can  for  you."  Then  he  went  quickly 
out  of  the  room,  for  I  could  see  he  was 
quite  overcome,  now  that  the  uncertainty 
was  over. 

Alone  once  more,  I  reasoned  with  my- 
self, and  felt  I  was  doing  an  unwise 

[=5] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


thing.  Just  at  that  time  my  husband 
was  away  on  business  for  some  months, 
and  I  had  no  one  to  advise  me,  and  no 
one  to  say  me  nay  either.  My  conscience 
told  me  my  husband  would  say,  "  We 
cannot  tell  who  this  boy  is,  where  he  has 
lived,  or  who  are  his  associates  ;  he  may 
be  connected  with  a  gang  of  thieves  for 
what  we  know  to  the  contrary.  Wait, 
and  have  proper  references  before  trust- 
ing him  in  the  house." 

And  he  would  be  right  to  say  so  to  me, 
but  not  every  one  listens  to  conscience 
when  it  points  the  opposite  way  to  in- 
clination. Well,  J.  Cole  remained,  and 
when  I  entered  the  dining-room  to  my 
solitary  dinner  he  was  there,  with  a  face 
shining  from  soap  and  water,  his  curls 
evidently  soaped  too,  to  make  them  go 
tidily  on  his  forehead.  The  former  page 
[26] 


5^==-9 

How  He  Came  to  Us 


having  left  his  livery  jacket  and  trousers, 
Mary  had  let  Joe  dress  in  them,  at  his 
earnest  request. 

She  told  me  afterwards  that  he  had 
sewn  up  the  clothes  in  the  neatest  man- 
ner wherever  they  could  be  made  smaller, 
and  the  effect  of  the  jacket,  which  he  had 
stuffed  out  in  the  chest  with  hay,  as  we 
discovered  by  the  perfume,  was  very 
droll.  He  had  a  great  love  of  bright 
colors,  and  the  trousers  being  large, 
showed  bright  red  socks ;  the  jacket 
sleeves  being  much  too  short  for  the  long 
arms,  of  which  he  was  so  proud,  allowed 
the  wristbands  of  a  vivid  blue  flannel 
shirt  to  be  seen. 

I  was  alone,  so  could  put  up  with  this 
droll  figure  at  my  elbow,  but  the  serious- 
ness of  his  face  was  such  a  contrast  to  the 
comicality  of  the  rest  of  him  that  I 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


found  myself  beginning  to  smile  every 
now  and  then,  but  directly  I  saw  the 
serious  eyes  on  me  I  felt  obliged  to  be- 
come grave  at  once. 

The  waiting  at  table  I  could  not  ex- 
actly pronounce  a  success,  for,  although 
Joe's  quick  eyes  detected  in  an  instant  if 
I  wanted  anything,  his  anxiety  to  be 
"  first  in  the  field,"  and  give  Mary  no 
chance  of  instructing  him  in  his  duties, 
made  him  collide  against  her  more  than 
once  in  his  hasty  rushes  to  the  sideboard 
and  back  to  my  elbow  with  the  dishes, 
which  he  generally  handed  to  me  long 
before  he  reached  me,  his  long  arms  en- 
abling him  to  reach  me  with  his  hands 
while  he  was  yet  some  distance  from  me, 
and  often  on  the  wrong  side.  I  also 
noticed  when  I  wanted  water  he  lifted 
the  water  bottle  on  high,  and  poured  as 
[28] 


T 


he  waiting  at  the  table  I  could  not 
exactly  pronounce  a  success. 

— Page  28. 


though  it  was  something  requiring  a 
"  head."  Mary  nearly  caused  a  catas- 
trophe at  that  moment  by  frowning  at 
him,  and  saying,  sotto  voce,  "  Whatever 
are  you  doing  ?  Is  that  the  way  to  pour 
out  water  ?  It  ain't  hale,  stoopid  1  " 

Joe's  face  became  scarlet,  and  to  hide 
his  confusion  he  seized  a  dish-cover,  and 
hastily  went  out  of  the  room  with  it,  re- 
turning in  a  moment  pale  and  serious  as 
became  one  who  at  heart  was  every  inch 
a  family  butler  with  immense  responsi- 
bilities. 

Joe  was  quiet  and  sharp,  quick  and  in- 
telligent, but  I  could  see  he  was  quite 
new  to  waiting  at  table.  To  remove  a 
dish  was,  I  could  see,  his  greatest  dread, 
and  it  amused  me  to  see  the  cleverness 
with  which  he  managed  that  Mary 
should  do  that  part  of  the  duty. 
[29] 


-oa 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


When  only  my  plate  and  a  dish  re- 
mained to  be  cleared  away,  he  would 
slowly  get  nearer  as  I  got  towards  the 
last  morsel,  and  before  Mary  had  time, 
would  take  my  plate  and  go  quite  slowly 
to  the  sideboard  with  it,  leisurely  remove 
the  knife  and  fork,  watching  meanwhile 
in  the  mirror  if  Mary  was  about  to  take 
the  dish  away,  if  not  he  would  take 
something  outside,  or  bring  a  decanter, 
and  ask  if  I  wanted  wine. 

I  was,  however,  pleased  to  find  him  no 
more  awkward,  as  I  feared  he  would 
have  been,  and  when  having  swept  the 
grate  and  placed  my  solitary  wine  glass 
and  dessert-plate  on  the  table,  he  retired, 
softly  closing  the  door  after  him,  I  felt  I 
should  make  something  of  J.  Cole,  and 
hoped  his  character  would  be  good. 

[30] 


ST. 


How  He  Stayed  With  Us 


CHAPTER  II 

'"T'VHE  next  morning  a  tastefully-ar- 
•*•  ranged  vase  of  flowers  in  the  centre 
of  the  breakfast- table,  and  one  magnificent 
rose  and  bud  by  my  plate,  were  silent  but 
eloquent  appeals  to  my  interest  on  behalf 
of  my  would-be  page,  and  when  Joe  him- 
self appeared,  fresh  from  an  hour's  self- 
imposed  work  in  my  garden,  I  saw  he  had 
become  quite  one  of  the  family,  for  Bogie, 
my  little  terrier,  usually  very  snappish  to 
strangers,  and  who  considered  all  boys  as 
his  natural  enemies,  was  leaping  about 
his  feet,  evidently  asking  for  more  games, 
and  our  old  magpie  was  perched  familiarly 
on  his  shoulder. 

[33] 


A 


1==-=^ 

The  Story  of  J.  Cole 

•— —•—•"••"—•"•wifc— .  \\ 

J^^) 

"  Good-morning,  Joe,"  I  said.  "  You 
are  an  early  riser,  I  can  see,  by  the  work 
you  have  already  done  in  the  garden." 

"  Why,  yes,"  replied  Joe,  blushing,  and 
touching  an  imaginary  cap ;  "  I'm  used  to 
bein'  up.  There  was  ever  so  much  to  do 
of  a  mornin'  at  'ome ;  and  I  'ad  to  'elp 
father  afore  I  could  go  to  be  with  Dick, 
and  I  was  with  Dick  a'most  every  mornin' 
by  seven,  and  a  good  mile  and  a  arf  to 
walk  to  'is  place.  Shall  I  bring  in  the 
breakfast,  mum?  Mary's  told  me  what 
to  do."" 

Having  given  permission,  Joe  set  to 
work  to  get  through  his  duties,  this  time 
without  any  help,  and  I  actually  trembled 
when  I  saw  him  enter  with  a  tray  con- 
taining all  things  necessary  for  my  morn- 
ing meal,  he  looked  so  overweighted  ;  but 
he  was  quite  equal  to  it  as  far  as  landing 
[34] 


H 


e    had    become    quite    one    of   the 
family.  -Page33. 


•t 


How  He  Stayed  With  Us 


the  tray  safely  on  the  sideboard.  But, 
alas  I  then  came  the  ordeal ;  not  one  thing 
did  poor  Joe  know  where  to  place,  and 
stood  with  the  coffee-pot  in  his  hand,  un- 
decided whether  it  went  before  me,  or  at 
the  end  of  the  table,  or  whether  he  was  to 
pour  out  my  coffee  for  me. 

I  saw  he  was  getting  very  nervous,  so 
took  it  from  him,  and  in  order  to  put 
him  at  his  ease  I  remarked  : 

"  I  think,  perhaps,  I  had  better  show 
you,  Joe,  just  for  once,  how  I  like  my 
breakfast  served,  for  every  one  has  little 
ways  of  their  own,  you  know,  and  you 
will  try  to  do  it  my  way  when  you  know 
how  I  like  it,  won't  you  ?  " 

Thereupon  I  arranged  the  dishes,  etc., 

for  him,  and  his  big  eyes  followed  my 

every    movement.     The    blinds    wanted 

pulling  down  a  little  presently,  and  then 

[35] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


I  began  to  realize  one  of  the  drawbacks 
in  having  such  a  very  small  boy  as  page. 
Joe  saw  the  sun's  rays  were  nearly  blinding 
me,  and  wanted  to  shut  them  out,  but  on 
attempting  to  reach  the  tassel  attached  to 
the  cord,  it  was  hopelessly  beyond  his 
reach.  In  vain  were  the  long  arms 
stretched  to  their  utmost,  till  the  sleeves 
of  the  ex-page's  jacket  retreated  almost  to 
Joe's  elbows,  but  no  use. 

I  watched,  curious  to  see  what  he 
would  do. 

"  Please  'm,  might  I  fetch  an  'all  chair? " 
said  Joe.  "  I'm  afraid  I'm  not  big  enuf 
to  reach  the  tossle,  but  I  won't  pull  'em 
up  so  'igh  to-morrow." 

I  gave  permission,  and  carefully  the 
chair  was  steered  among  my  tables  and 
china  pots.  Then  Joe  mounted,  and  by 
means  of  rising  on  the  tips  of  his  toes  he 
[36] 


T 


hey  sat  at  work,  while  Joe  amused 
them  with  his  stories  and  reminis- 
cences. —Page  37- 


How  He  Stayed  With  Us 


was  able  to  accomplish  the  task  of  lower- 
ing the  blinds. 

I  noticed  at  that  time  that  Joe  wore 
bright  red  socks,  and  I  little  thought 
what  a  shock  those  bright-colored  hose 
were  to  give  me  later  on  under  different 
circumstances. 

That  evening  I  had  satisfactory  letters 
regarding  Joe's  character,  and  by  degrees 
he  became  used  to  his  new  home,  and  we 
to  him.  His  quaint  sayings  and  wonder- 
ful love  of  the  truth,  added  to  extreme 
cleanliness,  made  him  welcome  in  the 
somewhat  exclusive  circle  in  which  my 
housekeeper,  Mrs.  Wilson,  reigned  su- 
preme. 

Many  a  hearty  burst  of  laughter  came  to 

me  from  the  open  kitchen-window  across 

the  garden  in  the  leisure  hour,  when  the 

servants'  tea  being  over,  they  sat  at  work, 

[37] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 

G^-^T 

while  Joe  amused  them  with  his  stories 
and  reminiscences  of  the  sayings  and 
doings  of  his  wonderful  brother  Dick. 

This  same  Dick  was  evidently  the  one 
being  Joe  worshipped  on  earth,  and  to 
keep  his  promises  to  Dick  a  sacred  duty. 

"  You  don't  know  our  Dick,  Mrs.  Wil- 
son," said  Joe,  to  the  old  housekeeper ; 
"  if  you  did  you'd  understand  why  I  no 
more  dare  go  agen  wot  Dick  told  me  than 
I  dare  put  my  'and  in  that  'ere  fire. 
When  I  were  quite  a  little  chap  I  took 
some  big  yaller  plums  once  out  of  one  of 
the  punnits  father  was  a-packin'  for  mar- 
ket, and  I  eat  'em.  I  don't  know  to  this 
'our  wot  made  me  take  them  plums,  but 
I  remember  they  were  such  prime  big 
uns,  big  as  eggs  they  was,  and  like  lumps 
of  gold,  with  a  sort  of  blue  shade  over 
'em.  Father  were  very  partikler  about 
[38] 


=00: 


How  He  Stayed  With  Us 


not  'avin'  the  fruit  'andled  and  takin'  the 
bloom  off,  and  told  me  to  cover  'em  well 
with  leaves.  It  was  a  broilin'  'ot  day, 
and  I  was  tired,  'avin'  been  stoopin'  over 
the  baskits  since  four  in  the  morning, 
and  as  I  put  the  leaves  over  the  plums  I 
touched  'em ;  they  felt  so  lovely  and 
cool,  and  looked  so  juicy-like,  I  felt  I 
must  eat  one,  and  I  did  ;  there  was  just 
six  on  'em,  and  when  I'd  bin  and  eat  one, 
there  seemed  such  a  empty  place  left  in 
the  punnit  that  I  knew  father'd  be  sure 
to  see  it,  so  I  eat  'em  all,  and  then  threw 
the  punnit  to  one  side.  Just  then  father 
comes  up  and  says, '  Count  them  punnits, 
Dick !  there  ought  to  be  forty  on  'em. 
Twenty  picked  large  for  Mr.  Moses, 
and  twenty  usuals  for  Marts ! ' — two  of 
our  best  customers  they  was.  Well, 
Dick,  he  counts  'em,  and  soon  misses 
[39] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 

— T  V&. 


one.  '  Thirty-eight,  thirty-nine/  he  sez, 
and  no  more ;  '  but  'ere's  a  empty  pun- 
nit/  he  sez.  I  was  standing  near,  feelin' 
awful,  and  wished  I'd  said  I'd  eat  the 
plums  afore  Dick  begun  to  count  'em, 
but  I  didn't,  and  after  that  I  couldn't. 
1  Joe  ! '  sez  Dick,  '  I  wants  yer  !  'Ow 
come  this  empty  punnit  'ere,  along  of 
the  others  ?  there's  plums  bin  in  it,  I  can 
see,  'cos  it's  not  new.  Speak  up,  young- 
ster!' I  looked  at  Dick's  face,  Mrs. 
Wilson,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  go  right 
into  my  throat,  and  draw  the  truth  out 
of  me.  '  Speak  up,'  he  sez,  a-gettin' 
cross  ;  '  if  you've  prigged  'em,  say  so,  and 
you'll  get  a  good  hidin'  from  me  for 
a-doin'  of  it ;  but  if  you  tells  me  a  lie, 
you'll  get  such  a  hidin'  for  that  as'll  make 
you  remember  it  all  your  life  ;  so  speak 
up,  say  you  did  it,  and  take  your  hidin' 
[40] 


'Toe!'  sez  Dick,   'I  wants  yer!    'Ow 
I     come  this  empty  punnit  'ere?' 


— Page  40. 


=00= 


How  He  Stayed  With  Us 


like  a  brick,  and  if  you  didn't  prig  'em, 
say  who  did,  'cos  you  must  'av'  seen 
'em  go.' 

"  I  couldn't  do  nothin',  Mrs.  Wilson, 
but  keep  my  'ed  down,  and  blubber  out, 
'  Please,  Dick,  I  eat  'em.' 

"  '  Oh,  you  did,  yer  young  greedy,  did 
yer  ? '  he  sez  ;  '  I'm  glad  yer  didn't  tell 
me  a  lie.  I've  got  to  giv'  yer  a  hiding, 
Joe ;  but  giv'  us  yer  'and,  old  chap,  first, 
and  mind  wot  I  sez  to  yer  :  "  Own  up  to 
it,  wotever  you  do,"  and  take  your  punish- 
ment ;  it's  'ard  to  bear,  but  when  the 
smart  on  it's  over  yer  forgets  it ;  but  if 
yer  tells  a  lie  to  save  yerself,  yer  feels  the 
smart  of  that  always ;  yer  feels  ashamed 
of  yerself  whenever  yer  thinks  of  it.' 
And  then  Dick  give  me  a  thrashin',  he 
did,  but  I  never  'ollered  or  made  a  row, 
tho'  he  hit  pretty  'ard.  And,  Mrs,  Wil- 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


son,  I  never  could  look  in  Dick's  face  if 
I  told  a  lie,  and  I  never  shall  tell  one,  I 
'ope,  as  long  as  ever  I  live.  You  should 
just  see  Dick,  Mrs.  Wilson ;  he  is  a 
one-er,  he  is." 

"  Lor  bless  the  boy,"  said  Mary,  the 
house-maid;  "why,  if  he  isn't  a-cryin' 
now.  Whatever's  the  matter?  One 
minnit  you're  makin'  us  larf  fit  to  kill  our- 
selves, and  then  you're  nearly  makin'  us 
cry  with  your  Dick,  and  your  great 
eyes  runnin'  over  like  that.  Now,  get 
away  and  take  the  dogs  their  supper,  and 
see  if  you  can't  get  a  bit  of  color  in  your 
cheeks  before  you  come  back." 

So  off  Joe  went,  and  soon  the  frantic 
barking  in  the  stable-yard  showed  he 
had  begun  feeding  his  four-footed  pets. 

Time  went  on  ;  it  was  a  very  quiet 
household  just  then — my  husband  away 
[42] 


He  Stayed  With  Us 


in  America,  and  my  friends  most  of  them 
enjoying  their  summer  abroad  or  at  some 
seaside  place — all  scattered  here  and  there 
until  autumn  was  over,  and  then  we 
were  to  move  to  town,  and  spend  the 
winter  season  at  our  house  there.  I 
hoped  my  dear  sister  and  her  girls  would 
then  join  us,  and,  best  of  all,  my  dear 
husband  be  home  to  make  our  circle 
complete. 

Day  by  day  Joe  progressed  in  favor 
with  everybody ;  his  size  was  always  a 
trouble,  but  his  extreme  good  nature 
made  everybody  willing  to  help  him  over 
his  difficulties.  He  invented  all  sorts 
of  curious  tools  for  reaching  up  to  high 
places ;  and  the  marvels  he  would  per- 
form with  a  long  stick  and  a  sort  of  claw 
at  the  end  of  it  were  quite  astonishing. 

I  noticed  whenever  I  spoke  of  going  to 
[43] 


J 

The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


town  Joe  did  not  seem  to  look  forward  to 
the  change  with  any  pleasure,  although 
he  had  never  been  to  London,  he  told 
me;  but  Dick  had  been  once  with  his 
father,  and  had  seen  lots  of  strange 
things ;  among  others  a  sad  one,  that 
made  a  great  impression  on  Dick,  and  he 
had  told  the  tale  to  Joe,  so  as  to  have  al- 
most as  great  an  effect  on  him. 

It  appeared  that  one  night  Dick  and 
his  father  were  crossing  Waterloo  Bridge, 
and  had  seen  a  young  girl  running 
quickly  along,  crying  bitterly.  Dick 
tried  to  keep  up  with  her,  and  asked  her 
what  was  the  matter.  She  told  him  to 
let  her  alone,  that  she  meant  to  drown 
herself,  for  she  had  nothing  to  live  for, 
and  was  sick  of  her  life.  Dick  persuaded 
her  to  tell  him  her  grief,  and  heard  from 
her  that  her  mother  and  father  had  both 
[44] 


T 


he  marvels  he  would  perform  with  a 
long  stick  .  .  .  were  quite  as- 
tonishing. -Page43. 


x^p 

How  He  Stayed  With  Us 

T==^=JS 


<*  \-^ 


been  drowned  in  a  steamer,  and  she  was 
left  with  a  little  brother  to  take  care  of ; 
he  had  been  a  great  trouble  to  her,  and 
had  been  led  away  by  bad  companions 
until  he  became  thoroughly  wicked. 
She  had  been  a  milliner,  and  had  a  room 
of  her  own,  and  paid  extra  for  a  little 
place  where  her  brother  could  sleep.  She 
fed  and  clothed  him  out  of  her  earnings, 
although  he  was  idle,  and  cruel  enough 
to  scold  and  abuse  her  when  she  tried  to 
reason  with  him,  and  refused  to  let  him 
bring  his  bad  companions  to  her  home. 
At  last  he  stole  nearly  all  she  had  and 
pawned  it;  and  among  other  things, 
some  bonnets  and  caps  belonging  to  the 
people  who  employed  her,  given  as  pat- 
terns for  her  to  copy.  These  she  had  to 
pay  for,  and  lost  her  situation  besides. 
By  degrees  all  her  clothes,  her  home,  and 
[45] 


1=^==^ 

The  Story  of  J.  Cole 

j^=M> 

all  she  had  went  for  food,  and  then  this 
wicked  boy  left  her,  and  the  next  thing 
she  knew  was  that  he  had  been  taken  up 
with  a  gang  of  burglars  concerned  in  a 
jewel  robbery.  That  day  she  had  seen 
him  in  prison,  and  he  was  to  be  trans- 
ported for  seven  years ;  so  the  poor  crea- 
ture, mad  with  grief,  was  about  to  end 
her  life.  Dick  and  his  father  would  not 
leave  her  until  she  was  quiet,  and 
promised  them  she  would  go  and  get  a 
bed  and  supper  with  the  money  they  gave 
her,  and  they  promised  to  see  her  again 
the  next  day  at  a  place  she  named.  The 
next  morning  they  went  to  the  address, 
and  found  a  crowd  round  the  house. 
Somebody  said  a  young  woman  had 
thrown  herself  out  of  a  window  and  had 
been  taken  up  dead.  It  was  too  true, 
and  the  girl  was  the  wretched,  heart- 
[46] 


s 


omebody  said  a  young  woman  had 
thrown  herself  out  of  a  window. 

— Page  4.6. 


=00= 


How  He  Stayed 


broken  sister  they  had  helped  over  night. 
Her  grief  had  been  too  much  for  her,  and, 
poor  thing,  she  awoke  to  the  light  of 
another  day,  and  could  not  face  it  alone 
and  destitute ;  so,  despairing,  she  had 
ended  her  life.  They  went  to  the  hospital, 
and  were  allowed  to  see  all  that  remained 
of  the  poor  creature  ;  and  Dick's  descrip- 
tion of  it  all,  and  his  opinion  that  the 
brother  "might  have  been  just  such 
another  little  chap  at  first  as  Joe,"  and 
"What  would  that  brother  feel,"  said 
Dick,  "  when  he  knew  what  he  had  done  ? 
for  he  done  it,"  said  Dick;  "he  done 
that  girl  to  death,  the  same  as  if  he'd 
shov'd  her  out  of  that  winder  hisself." 

"  And,"  said  Joe,  "  I  wonder  if  them 
chaps  is  goin'  about  London  now  wot  led 
her  brother  wrong?     I  don't  like  Lon- 
don ;  and  I  wish  we  could  stop  'ere." 
[47] 


£0= 


: 


Story  of  J.  Cole 


I  assured  Joe  that  in  London  there  was 
no  danger  of  meeting  such  people  if  he 
kept  to  himself,  and  made  no  friends  of 
strangers. 

Joe  was  also  much  afraid  of  having  to 
wait  at  table  when  there  were  guests.  In 
spite  of  all  I  could  do,  he  was  hopelessly 
nervous  and  confused  when  he  had  to 
wait  on  more  than  two  or  three  people, 
and  as  I  expected  to  entertain  a  good  deal 
when  we  were  in  town,  I  could  not  help 
fearing  Joe  would  be  unequal  to  the  duties. 

I  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  parting 
with  the  little  fellow,  for,  added  to  his 
good  disposition,  Joe,  in  his  dark  brown 
livery,  with  gilt  buttons,  his  neat  little 
ties,  and  clean  hands,  his  carefully  brushed 
curls,  by  this  time  trained  into  better 
order,  and  shining  like  burnished  gold  in 
the  sun ;  his  tiny  feet,  with  the  favorite 
[48] 


J 


oe,  let  me  tell  you,  was  quite  an  orna- 
ment in  our  establishment.      — Page  49. 


How  He  Stayed 


red  socks,  which  he  could  and  did  darn 
very  neatly  himself  when  they  began  to 
wear  out  (and  when  he  bought  new  ones 
they  were  always  bright  red) — Joe,  let  me 
tell  you,  was  quite  an  ornament  in  our 
establishment,  and  the  envy  of  several 
boys  living  in  families  round  about,  who 
tried  in  vain  to  get  acquainted  with  him, 
but  he  would  not  be  friends,  although  he 
always  refused  their  advances  with  civil 
words. 

Sometimes  a  boy  would  linger  when 
bringing  a  note  or  message  for  me,  and 
try  to  draw  Joe  into  conversation.  In  a 
few  minutes  I  would  hear  Joe's  deep  voice 
say,  "  I  think  you  had  better  go  on  now. 
I've  got  my  work  to  do,  and  I  reckon 
you've  got  yours  a-waitin'  for  yer  at  your 
place."  Then  the  side  door  would  shut, 
and  Joe  was  bustling  about  his  work. 
[49] 


How  He  Won  Our  Hearts 


M 


ore  than  once  I  met  him  coming 
down  the  stairs  with  large  boxes. 


-Page  S3- 


CHAPTER  III 

TN  the  beginning  of  October  we  arrived 
•*•  in  London.  There  had  been  much 
packing  up,  and  much  extra  work  for 
everybody,  and  Joe  was  in  his  element. 

What  those  long  arms,  and  that  willing 
heart,  and  those  quick  little  hands  got 
through,  nobody  but  those  he  helped  and 
worked  for  could  tell.  Whatever  was 
wanted,  Joe  knew  where  to  find  it.  Joe's 
knife  was  ready  to  cut  a  stubborn  knot ; 
Joe's  shoulders  ready  to  be  loaded  with 
as  heavy  a  weight  as  any  man  could 
carry.  More  than  once  I  met  him  com- 
ing down-stairs  with  large  boxes  he  him- 
self could  almost  have  been  packed  in, 
[53] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


and  he  declared  he  did  not  find  them  too 
heavy. 

"  You  see,  Missis,"  he  said,  "  I'm  that 
strong  now  since  I've  been  here,  with  all 
the  good  food  I  gets,  and  bein'  so  happy 
like,  that  I  feel  almost  up  to  carryin'  any- 
think.  I  do  believe  I  could  lift  that 
there  pianner,  if  somebody  would  just 
give  it  a  hoist,  and  let  me  get  hold  of  it 
easy." 

Yes,  Joe  was  strong  and  well,  and  I 
am  sure,  happy,  and  I  had  never  had 
a  single  misgiving  about  him  since  he 
stood  with  his  fading  flowers  and  shabby 
clothes  at  my  window  that  summer 
day. 

At  last  we  were  settled  in  town,  and 

the  winter  season  beginning.     Our  house 

was  situated  in  the  West  end  of  London, 

a  little  beyond  Bayswater.     One  of  a  row 

[54] 


How  He  Won  Our  Hearts 

r> 

of  detached  houses,  facing  another  row 
exactly  similar  in  every  way,  except  that 
the  backs  of  those  we  lived  in  had  small 
gardens,  with  each  its  own  stable  wall  at 
the  end,  with  coachman's  rooms  above, 
the  front  of  the  stables  facing  the  mews, 
and  having  the  entrance  from  there  ;  the 
mews  ran  all  along  the  backs  of  these 
houses.  On  the  opposite  side  the  houses 
facing  ours  had  their  gardens  and  back 
windows  facing  the  high  road,  and  no 
stables.  There  was  a  private  road  be- 
longing to  this,  Holling  Park,  as  it  was 
called,  and  a  watchman  to  keep  intruders 
out,  and  to  stop  organ-grinders,  beggars, 
and  such  invaders  of  the  peace  from  dis- 
turbing us. 

Somehow  I  was   never  as  comfortable 
as  in  my  snug  cottage  in  the  country. 
Rich,  fashionable  people  lived  about  us, 
[55] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


and  all  day  long  kept  up  the  round  of 
"  society  life." 

In  the  morning  the  large,  handsome 
houses  would  seem  asleep,  nothing  moving 
inside  or  out,  except  a  tradesman's  cart, 
calling  for  orders,  or  workmen  putting 
up  or  taking  down  awnings,  at  some 
house  where  there  would  be,  or  had  been, 
a  ball  or  entertainment  of  some  kind. 
About  eleven  a  carriage  or  two  would  be 
driven  round  from  the  mews,  and  stop 
before  a  house  to  take  some  one  for  a 
morning  drive,  but  very  seldom  was  any- 
body on  foot  seen  about.  In  the  after- 
noon it  was  different ;  carriages  rolled 
incessantly,  and  streams  of  afternoon 
callers  were  going  and  coming  from  the 
houses  when  the  mistress  was  "  at  home  " ; 
and  at  my  door,  too,  soon  began  the  usual 
din  of  bell  and  knocker,  Joe  was  quit© 
[56] 


How  He  Won  Our  Hearts 


equal  to  the  occasion,  and  enjoyed  Friday, 
the  day  I  received.  Dressed  in  his  very 
best,  and  with  a  collar  that  kept  his  chin 
in  what  seemed  to  me  a  fearful  state  of 
torture,  but  added  to  his  height  by  at 
least  half  an  inch,  Joe  stood  behind  the 
hall  door,  ready  to  open  it  directly  the 
knocker  was  released.  He  ushered  in 
the  guests  as  though  "to  the  manner 
born,"  giving  out  the  names  correctly, 
and  with  all  the  ease  of  an  experienced 
groom  of  the  chambers. 

The  conservatory  leading  out  of  the 
drawing-room  was  Joe's  especial  pride ;  it 
was  his  great  pleasure  to  syringe  the 
hanging  baskets,  and  attend  to  the  ferns 
and  plants.  Many  shillings  from  his 
pocket-money  were  spent  in  little  sur- 
prises for  me  in  the  form  of  pots  of  musk, 
maiden-hair,  or  anything  he  could  buy ; 
[57] 


— JOG- 


X^^Q 

The  Story  of  J.  Cole 

^=^J> 

his  wages  were  all  sent  home,  and  he 
only  kept  for  his  own  whatever  he  had 
given  to  him,  and  sometimes  a  guest 
would  "  tip  "  him  more  generously  than 
I  liked,  for  his  bright  eyes  and  ready 
hands  were  always  at  everybody's  service. 

After  my  husband's  return  home,  who 
from  the  first  became  Joe's  especial  care, 
as  to  boots,  brushing  of  clothes,  etc.,  it 
became  necessary  to  give  two  or  three 
dinner-parties,  and  I  must  confess  I  felt 
nervous  as  to  how  Joe  would  acquit  him- 
self. 

In  our  dining-room  was  a  very  large 
bearskin  rug,  and  the  floor  being  polished 
oak,  it  was  dangerous  to  step  on  this  rug, 
for  it  would  slip  away  from  the  feet  on 
the  smooth  surface,  and  even  the  dogs 
avoided  it,  so  many  falls  had  they  met 
with  upon  it. 

[58] 


c 

How  He  Won  Our  Hearts 


The  first  day  of  my  husband's  arrival, 
we  had  my  sister  and  a  friend  to  dine, 
and  had  been  talking  about  Joe  in  the 
few  moments  before  dinner. 

My  husband  had  been  laughing  at  the 
size  of  my  page,  and  scolding  me  a  little, 
or  pretending  to  do  so,  for  taking  a  written 
character. 

"  Little  woman,"  he  said,  "  don't  be 
surprised  if  one  night  a  few  country 
burglars  make  us  a  visit,  and  renew  their 
acquaintance  with  Mr.  J.  Cole." 

"  You  don't  know  Joe,"  I  replied,  "  or 
you  would  never  say  that." 

"  Do  you  know  him  so  well,  little 
wife?"  said  my  dear  sensible  husband; 
"  remember  he  has  only  been  in  our 
service  six  months.  In  the  country  he 
had  very  little  of  value  in  his  hands,  but 
here,  it  seems  to  me,  he  has  too  much. 
[59] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


All  the  plate,  and  indeed  everything  of 
value,  is  in  his  pantry,  and  he  is  a  very 
young  boy  to  trust.  One  of  the  women 
servants  should  take  charge  of  the  plate- 
chest,  I  think.  Where  does  this  paragon 
sleep?" 

"  Down-stairs,"  I  said,  "  next  the  kitch- 
en, at  the  back  of  the  house,  and  you 
should  see  how  carefully  every  night  he 
looks  to  the  plate-basket,  counts  every- 
thing, and  then  asks  Mrs.  Wilson  to  see 
it  is  right,  locks  it  up,  and  gives  her  the 
key  to  take  care  of.  No  one  can  either 
open  or  carry  away  an  iron  safe  easily, 
and  there  is  nothing  else  worth  taking  ; 
besides,  I  know  Joe  is  honest,  I  feel  it." 

"  Well,  I  hope  so,  dear,"  was  my  hus- 
band's reply,  but  I  could  see  he  was  not 
quite  comfortable  about  it. 

At  dinner  that  day  Joe  had  an  acci- 

[60] 


F. 

How  He  Won  Our  Hearts 


dent ;  he  was  dreadfully  nervous  as  usual, 
and  when  waiting,  he  forgot  to  attend  to 
my  guests  first,  but  always  came  to  me. 
The  parlor-maid,  a  new  one,  and  not  a 
great  favorite  with  Joe,  made  matters 
worse  by  correcting  him  in  an  audible 
voice  ;  and  once,  when  somebody  wanted 
oyster  sauce,  she  told  Joe  to  hand  it,  the 
poor  boy,  wishing  to  obey  quickly,  forgot 
to  give  the  bearskin  a  wide  berth,  slipped 
on  it,  and  in  a  moment  had  fallen  full 
length,  having  in  his  fall  deposited  the 
contents  of  the  sauce-tureen  partly  into  a 
blue  leather  armchair,  and  the  rest  on  to 
my  sister's  back. 

The  boy's  consternation  was  dreadful. 
I  could  see  he  was  completely  overcome 
with  fright  and  sorrow  for  what  he  had 
done.  He  got  up,  and  all  his  trembling 
lips  could  say  was,  "  Oh,  please,  I'm  so 
[61] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


sorry ;  it  was  the  bear  as  tripped  me  up. 
I  am  so  very  sorry." 

Even  my  husband  could  scarcely  keep 
from  smiling,  the  sorrow  was  so  genuine, 
the  sense  of  shame  so  true. 

"There,  never  mind,  Joe,"  he  said 
kindly ;  "  you  must  be  more  careful. 
Now  run  and  get  a  sponge  and  do  the 
best  you  can  with  it." 

After  that  Joe  had  the  greatest  terror 
of  that  treacherous  skin,  and  I  heard 
him  telling  the  parlor-maid  about  it. 

"  You  mind,"  he  said,  "  or  that  bear'll 
ketch  'old  of  yer.  I  shan't  forget  how 
he  ketched  'old  of  my  leg  that  day  and 
knocked  me  over  ;  so  you'd  better  take 
care,  and  not  go  nigher  than  you  can 
'elp.  He's  always  a-lookin'  out  to  ketch 
yer,  but  he  won't  'ave  me  no  more,  I  can 
tell  him." 

[62] 


£K  (f 

^  •  L 


T 


he   poor   boy,    wishing   to   obey 
quickly,     .    .    slipped.          —Pa&6i. 


How  He  Won  Our  Hearts 


This  fall  of  Joe's  made  him  still  more 
nervous  of  waiting  at  table,  and  at  last 
when  he  had  made  some  very  serious 
mistakes,  I  had  to  speak  to  him  and  tell 
him  I  was  afraid  if  he  did  not  soon 
learn  to  wait  better,  I  must  send  him 
away,  for  his  master  was  annoyed  at  the 
mistakes  he  made,  such  as  pouring  port 
instead  of  sherry,  giving  cold  plates 
when  hot  ones  were  required,  handing 
dishes  on  the  wrong  side,  etc. 

My  little  lecture  was  listened  to  quietly 
and  humbly,  and  Joe  had  turned  to  go 
away,  when,  to  my  surprise  and  distress, 
he  suddenly  burst  into  a  perfect  passion 
of  tears  and  sobs. 

"  I  will  try  and  learn  myself,"  he  said, 
as  well  as  his  sobs  would  let  him,  "  in- 
deed, I  will.  I  know  I'm  stoopid.  I  sez 
to  myself  every  time  company  comes, 
[63] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


1  I'll  mind  wot  I'm  about,  and  remember 
dishes  left-'anded,  pourin's  out  right, 
sherry  wine's  yeller,  and  port  wine  after- 
wards with  the  nuts,  grapes  and  things  ; 
and  the  cruits  when  there's  tish,  and  be- 
gin with  the  strangerest  lady  next  to 
master's  side,  and  'elp  missis  last.'  I 
knows  it  all,  but  when  they're  all  sittin' 
down,  and  everybody  wantin'  somethin', 
I  don't  know  if  Jane's  a-goin'  to  giv'  it 
'em,  or  I  am,  and  I  gets  stoopid  and  my 
'ands  shakes,  and  somehow  I  can't  do 
nothin' ;  but  please  don't  send  me  away. 
I  do  like  you  and  the  master.  I'll  ask 
Jane  to  learn  me  better.  You  see  if  I 
don't.  Oh,  please  'm,  say  you'll  try 
me!" 

What  could  I  say  but  "  Yes  "  ;  and  for 
a  day  or  two  Joe  did  better,  but  we  were 
a  small  party,  and  the  waiting  was  easy  ; 
[64] 


A 


s  the  time  drew  near,  Joe  became 
quite  pale  and  anxious.        —Page  65. 


He  Won  Our  Hearts 


but  shortly  we  were  to  have  a  large  din- 
ner-party, and  as  the  time  drew  near, 
Joe  became  quite  pale  and  anxious. 

About  this  time,  too,  I  had  been  awak- 
ened at  night  by  curious  sounds  down- 
stairs, as  of  somebody  moving  about,  and 
once  I  heard  an  unmistakable  fall  of 
some  heavy  article. 

My  husband  assured  me  it  was  nothing 
alarming,  and  he  went  down-stairs,  but 
could  neither  hear  nor  see  anything  un- 
usual. All  was  quiet. 

Another  night  I  felt  sure  I  heard 
sounds  down-stairs,  and  in  spite  of  my 
husband's  advice  to  remain  still,  I  called 
Mrs.  Wilson  and  entreated  her  to  come 
down  to  the  kitchen  floor  with  me.  It 
was  so  very  easy,  I  knew,  for  anybody  to 
enter  the  house  from  the  back,  and  there 
being  a  deep  area  all  around,  they  could 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


work  away  with  their  tools  at  the  ground 
floor  back  windows  unseen.  Any  one 
could  get  on  the  top  of  the  stable  from 
the  mews,  drop  into  the  garden,  and  be 
safe  ;  for  the  watchman  and  policeman 
were  on  duty  in  the  front  of  the  house 
only  ;  the  back  was  quite  unprotected. 
True,  there  were  iron  bars  to  Joe's  win- 
dow and  the  kitchen,  but  iron  bars  could 
be  sawn  through,  and  I  lived  in  dread  of 
burglars. 

This  night  Mrs.  Wilson  and  I  went 
softly  down,  and  as  we  neared  the  kitchen 
stairs  I  heard  a  voice  say  in  a  whisper, 
"  Make  haste  !  " 

"  There,  Mrs.  Wilson,  did  you  hear 
that  ?  "  I  said.  "  Was  that  imagina- 
tion ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,"  she  replied  ;  "  there's 
somebody  talking,  and  I  believe  it's  in 
[66] 


How  He  Won  Our  Hearts 


Joe's  room.  Let  us  go  up  and  fetch  the 
master." 

So  we  returned  up-stairs,  and  soon  my 
husband  stood  with  us  at  the  door  of 
Joe's  room. 

"  Open  the  door,  Joe  !  "  cried  my  hus- 
band. "  Who  have  you  got  there  ?  " 

"Nobody,  please,  sir,"  said  a  trembling 
voice. 

"  Open  the  door  at  once  !  "  said  the 
master,  and  in  a  moment  it  was  opened. 
Joe  stood  there  very  pale,  but  with  no  sort 
of  fear  in  his  face.  There  was  nobody  in 
the  room,  and  as  Joe  had  certainly  been 
in  bed,  we  concluded  he  must  have  talked 
in  his  sleep,  and,  perhaps,  walked  about 
also,  for  what  we  knew. 

The  day  before  the  dinner-party,  cook 
came  and  told  me  she  felt  sure  there  was 
something  wrong  with  Joe,  He  was  so 
[67] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


changed  from  what  he  used  to  be ;  there 
was  no  getting  him  to  wake  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  he  seemed  so  heavy  with  sleep, 
as  if  he  had  no  rest  at  night.  Also  cook 
had  proofs  of  his  having  been  in  her 
kitchen  after  he  was  supposed  to  have 
gone  to  bed ;  chairs  were  moved,  and 
several  things  not  where  she  had  left 
them.  She  had  asked  Joe,  and  he  re- 
plied he  did  go  into  the  kitchen,  but 
would  not  say  what  for. 

I  did  not  like  to  talk  to  Joe  that  day, 
so  decided  to  wait  till  after  the  dinner, 
and  I  would  then  insist  on  the  mystery 
being  cleared  up.  I  knew  Joe  would  tell 
the  truth  ;  my  trust  was  unshaken,  al- 
though circumstances  seemed  against  him. 

That  night  Mrs.  Wilson  came  to  my 
door,  and  said  she  was  sure  Joe  was  at 
his  nightwork  again,  for  she  could  see 
[68] 


=00= 


How  He  Won  Our  Hearts 


from  her  bedroom  window  a  light  re- 
flected on  the  stable  wall,  which  must  be 
in  his  room. 

"  How  can  we  find  out,"  I  said,  "  what 
he  is  doing?" 

"  That  is  easily  done,"  said  my  hus- 
band. "  We  can  go  out  at  the  garden 
door,  and  down  the  steps  leading  from 
the  garden  into  the  area ;  they  are  op- 
posite his  window.  We  can  look  through 
the  Venetian  blinds,  if  they  are  down,  and 
see  for  ourselves.  He  won't  be  able  to 
see  us." 

Accordingly,  having  first  wrapped  up 
in  our  furs,  we  went  down,  and  were 
soon  at  Joe's  window,  standing  in  the 
area  that  surrounded  the  house.  The 
laths  of  the  blind  were  some  of  them 
open,  and  between  them  we  saw  dis- 
tinctly all  over  the  room. 
[69] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


At  first  we  could  not  understand  the 
strange  sight  that  met  our  gaze. 

In  the  middle  of  Joe's  room  was  a 
table,  spread  with  a  cloth,  and  on  it 
saucers  from  flower-pots,  placed  at  inter- 
vals down  each  side  ;  before  each  saucer 
a  chair  was  placed,  and  in  the  centre  of 
the  table  a  high  basket,  from  which  a 
Stilton  cheese  had  been  unpacked  that 
morning ;  this  was  evidently  to  represent 
a  tall  6pergne.  On  Joe's  washstand  were 
several  bottles,  a  jug,  and  by  each  flower- 
pot saucer  two  vessels  of  some  kind — by 
one,  two  jam-pots  of  different  sizes  ;  by 
another,  a  broken  specimen  glass  and  a 
teacup — and  so  on  ;  and  from  chair  to 
chair  moved  Joe,  softly  but  quickly,  on 
tiptoe,  now  with  bottles  which  contained 
water  ;  we  could  see  his  lips  move,  and 
concluded  he  was  saying  something  to 
[70] 


T 


he  poor   boy,   had   stolen   all  those 
hours  from  his  rest,  to  practise. 


— Page  71. 


imaginary  persons,  for  he  would  put  a 
jam-pot  on  his  tray,  and  pour  into  it  from 
the  bottle,  and  then  replace  it.  Some- 
times he  would  go  quickly  to  his  bed, 
which  we  saw  represented  the  dinner- 
wagon,  or  sideboard,  and  bring  imaginary 
dishes  from  there  and  hand  them.  Then 
he  would  go  quickly  from  chair  to  chair, 
always  correcting  himself  if  he  went  to 
the  wrong  side,  and  talking  all  the  time 
softly  to  himself.  So  here  was  the  solu- 
tion of  the  mystery  :  here  melted  into  air 
the  visions  of  Joe  in  league  with  mid- 
night burglars. 

The  poor  boy,  evidently  alarmed  at  the 
prospect  of  the  dinner-party,  and  feeling 
that  he  must  try  to  improve  in  waiting 
at  table  before  that  time  somehow,  had 
stolen  all  those  hours  nightly  from  his 
rest,  to  practice  with  whatever  substi- 


c 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


tutes  were  at  hand  for  the  usual  table 
requisites. 

Here  every  night,  when  those  who  had 
worked  far  less  during  the  day  were 
soundly  sleeping,  had  that  anxious, 
striving  little  heart  shaken  off  fatigue, 
and  the  big  blue  eyes  refused  to  yield  to 
sleep,  in  order  to  fight  with  the  nervous- 
ness that  alone  prevented  his  willing 
hands  acting  with  their  natural  clever- 
ness. I  felt  a  choking  in  my  throat,  when 
I  saw  the  thin,  pale  little  face,  that  should 
have  been  on  the  pillow  hours  before, 
lighted  up  with  triumph  as  the  supposed 
guests  departed,  the  dumb  show  of  fold- 
ing the  dinner  napkins  belonging  to  my- 
self and  the  master,  and  putting  them  in 
their  respective  rings,  told  us  the  ordeal 
was  over.  What  a  weird  scene  it  was ! 
The  dim  light,  the  silent  house,  the 
[72] 


How  He  Won  Our 


spread  table,  and  the  empty  chairs.  One 
could  imagine  ghostly  revelers,  visible 
only  to  that  one  fragile  attendant,  who 
ministered  so  willingly  to  their  numerous 
wants.  The  sort  of  nervous  thrill  that 
heralds  hysterical  attacks  was  rapidly 
overcoming  me,  and  I  whispered  to  my 
husband,  "  Let  us  go  now  ;  "  but  he  lin- 
gered yet  a  few  seconds,  and  silently 
drew  my  attention  again  to  the  window. 
Joe  was  on  his  knees  by  his  bedside, 
his  face  hidden  in  his  hands.  What 
silent  prayer  was  ascending  to  the  Throne 
of  Grace,  who  shall  say  ?  I  only  know 
that  it  were  well  if  many  a  kneeling 
worshiper  in  "  purple  and  fine  linen " 
could  feel  as  sure  of  being  heard  as  Joe 
did  when,  his  victory  won,  he  knelt,  in 
his  humble  servant's  garb,  and  said  his 
prayers  that  night  in  spite  of  the  aching 
[73] 


r 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


head  and  weary  limbs  that  needed  so 
badly  the  few  hours'  rest  that  remained 
before  six  o'clock,  the  time  Joe  always 
got  up. 

Silently  we  stole  away,  and  in  my 
mind  from  that  moment  my  faith  in  Joe 
never  wavered.  Not  once,  in  spite  of  sad 
events  that  came  to  pass  later  on,  when 
even  I,  his  staunchest  friend,  had  to  re- 
call to  memory  that  kneeling  little  form 
in  the  silence  of  the  night,  alone  with  his 
God,  in  order  to  stifle  the  cruel  doubts  of 
his  truth  that  were  forced  upon  us  all  by 
circumstances  I  must  soon  relate. 

The  famous  dinner  passed  off  well. 
Joe  was  splendid ;  his  midnight  practice 
had  brought  its  reward,  and  he  moved 
about  so  swiftly,  and  anticipated  every- 
body's wants  so  well,  that  some  of  my 
friends  asked  me  where  I  got  such  a 
[74] 


How  He  Won  Our  Hearts 


treasure  of  a  page ;  he  must  have  had  a 
good  butler  or  footman  to  teach  him, 
they  said ;  he  is  evidently  used  to  wait>- 
ing  on  many  guests.  I  was  proud  of  Joe. 

The  next  day  he  came  to  me  with  more 
than  a  sovereign  in  silver,  and  told  me 
the  gentlemen  had  been  so  very  kind  to 
him,  "  and  a'most  every  one  had  given 
him  something  tho'  he  never  arst,  or 
waited  about,  as  some  fellers  did,  as  if 
they  wouldn't  lose  sight  of  a  gent  till  he 
paid  'em.  But,"  said  Joe,  "  they  would 
giv'  it  me ;  and  one  gent,  he  follered  me 
right  up  the  passage,  he  did,  and  sez, 
'  'Ere,  you  small  boy,'  he  sez,  and  he  give 
me  a  whole  'arf-crown.  Whatever  for,  I 
don't  know." 

But  I  knew  that  must  have  been  Dr. 
Loring,  a  celebrated  physician,  and  my 
husband's  dearest  friend.     We  had  told 
[75] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


him  about  Joe's  midnight  self-teaching, 
and  he  had  been  much  interested  in  the 
story. 

You  little  thought,  Joe,  the  hand  that 
patted  your  curly  head  so  kindly  that 
night  would  one  day  hold  your  small 
wrist  and  count  its  feeble  life  pulse  beat- 
ing slowly  and  yet  more  slowly,  while 
we,  who  loved  you,  should  watch  the 
clever,  handsome  face,  trying  in  vain  to 
read  there  the  blessed  word  "  Hope." 


[76] 


How  He  Left  Us 


CHAPTER  IV 

AND  now  I  confess  to  those— for  surely 
there  will  be  a  few — who  have  felt 
a  little  interest  so  far,  in  the  fortunes  of 
J.  Cole,  that  a  period  in  my  story  has  ar- 
rived when  I  would  fain  lay  down  my 
pen,  and  not  awaken  the  sleeping  past, 
to  recall  the  sad  trouble  that  befell  him. 

I  am  almost  an  old  woman  now,  and 
all  this  happened  many  years  ago,  when 
my  hair  was  golden  instead  of  silver.  I 
was  younger  in  those  days,  and  now  am 
peacefully  and  hopefully  waiting  God's 
good  time  for  my  summons.  Troubles 
have  been  my  lot,  many  and  hard  to  bear. 
[79] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 
C 

Loss  of  husband,  children,  dear,  good 
friends,  many  by  death,  and  some  troubles 
harder  even  than  those,  the  loss  of  trust, 
and  bitter  awakening  to  the  ingratitude 
and  worthlessness  of  those  in  whom  I 
have  trusted.  All  these  I  have  endured. 
Yet  time  and  trouble  have  not  sufficiently 
hardened  my  heart  that  I  can  write  of 
what  follows  without  pain. 

Christmas  was  over,  and  my  dear  hus- 
band again  away  for  some  months.  As 
soon  as  I  could  really  say,  "  Spring  is 
here,"  we  were  to  leave  London  for  our 
country  home,  and  Joe  was  constantly 
talking  to  Mrs.  Wilson  about  his  various 
pets,  left  behind  in  the  gardener's  care. 
There  was  an  old  jackdaw,  an  especial 
favorite  of  his,  a  miserable  owl,  too,  who 
had  met  with  an  accident,  resulting  in 
the  loss  of  an  eye ;  a  more  evil-looking 
[80] 


A 


11  these  creatures  were  Joe's  delight. 

— Page  81. 


How  He  Left  Us 


object  than  "  Cyclops,"  as  my  husband 
christened  him,  I  never  saw.  Sometimes 
on  a  dark  night  this  one  eye  would  gleam 
luridly  from  out  the  shadowy  recesses  of 
the  garden,  and  an  unearthly  cry  of 
"  Hoo-oo-t,"  fall  on  the  ear,  enough  to 
give  one  the  "  creeps  for  a  hour,"  as  Mary, 
the  housemaid,  said.  But  Joe  loved 
Cyclops,  or  rather  "  Cloppy,"  as  he  called 
him,  and  the  bird  hopped  after  Joe  about 
the  garden,  as  if  he  quite  returned  the 
feeling. 

All  our  own  dogs,  and  two  or  three 
maimed  ones,  and  a  cat  or  two,  more  or 
less  hideous,  and  indebted  to  Joe's  mercy 
in  rescuing  them  from  traps,  snares,  etc., 
— all  these  creatures  were  Joe's  delight. 
Each  week  the  gardener's  boy  wrote  a  few 
words  to  Joe  of  their  health  and  wonder- 
ful doings,  and  each  week  Joe  faithfully 
[81] 


=00= 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 
~ 


sent  a  shilling,  to  be  laid  out  in  food  for 
them.  Then  there  was  Joe's  especial  gar- 
den, also  a  sort  of  hospital,  or  convalescent 
home  rather,  where  many  blighted,  un- 
healthy-looking plants  and  shrubs,  dis- 
carded by  the  gardener,  and  cast  aside  to 
be  burned  on  the  weed  heap,  had  been 
rescued  by  Joe,  patiently  nursed  and 
petted  as  it  were  into  life  again  by  con- 
stant care  and  watching,  and  after  being 
kept  in  pots  awhile,  till  they  showed,  by 
sending  forth  some  tiny  shoot  or  bud,  that 
the  sap  of  life  was  once  more  circulating 
freely,  were  then  planted  in  the  sheltered 
corner  he  called  "  his  own." 

What  treasures  awaited  him  in  this 
small  square  of  earth.  What  bunches  of 
violets  he  would  gather  for  the  missis ; 
and  his  longing  to  get  back  to  his  various 
pets,  and  his  garden,  was  the  topic  of  con- 
[82] 


w 


hat  bunches  of  violets   he   would 
gather  for  the  missis.          -Page  82. 


How  He  Left  Us 


versation  on  many  a  long  evening  between 
Joe  and  Mrs.  Wilson.  % 

Little  Bogie,  the  fox  terrier,  was  the 
only  dog  we  had  with  us  in  town,  and 
Bogie  hated  London.  After  the  quiet 
country  life,  the  incessant  roll  of  car- 
riages, tramping  of  horses,  and  callings 
of  coachmen,  shrill  cab  whistles,  and  all 
the  noises  of  a  fashionable  neighborhood 
at  night  during  a  London  season,  were 
most  objectionable  to  Bogie  ;  he  could  not 
rest,  and  often  Joe  got  out  of  bed  in  the 
night,  and  took  him  in  his  arms,  to  pre- 
vent his  waking  all  of  us,  with  his  shrill 
barking  at  the  unwonted  sounds. 

As  I  have  said  before,  I  am  very  nerv- 
ous, and  the  prospect  of  spending  several 
more  weeks  in  the  big  London  house, 
without  my  husband,  was  far  from  pleas- 
ant ;  so  I  invited  my  widowed  sister  and 


d 


r 

The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


her  girls  to  stay  with  me  some  time  longer, 
and  made  ,up  my  mind  to  banish  my 
fears,  and  think  of  nothing  but  that  the 
dark  nights  would  be  getting  shorter  and 
shorter,  and  meanwhile  our  house  was 
well  protected,  as  far  as  good  strong  bolts 
and  chains  could  do  so. 

One  night  I  felt  more  nervous  than 
usual.  I  had  expected  a  letter  from 
America  for  some  days  past,  and  none 
had  arrived.  On  this  evening  I  knew 
the  mail  was  due,  and  I  waited  anxiously 
for  the  last  ring  of  the  postman  at  ten 
o'clock ;  but  I  was  doomed  to  listen  in 
vain  ;  there  was  the  sharp,  loud  ring  next 
door,  but  not  at  ours,  and  I  went  to  my 
room  earlier  than  the  others,  really  to 
give  way  to  a  few  tears  that  I  could  not 
control. 

I  sat  by  my  bedroom  fire,  thinking, 
[84] 


JXL 


and  I  am  afraid,  conjuring  up  all  sorts  of 
terrible  reasons  for  my  dear  husband's 
silence,  until  I  must  have  fallen  asleep, 
for  I  awoke  chilly  and  cramped  from  the 
uncomfortable  posture  I  had  slept  in. 
The  fire  was  out,  and  the  house  silent  as 
the  grave  ;  not  even  a  carriage  passing  to 
take  up  some  late  guest.  I  looked  at 
the  clock — half-past  three,  and  then  from 
my  window.  It  was  that  "  darkest  hour 
before  dawn,"  and  I  hurried  into  bed, 
and  endeavored  to  sleep ;  but  no,  I  was 
hopelessly  wide  awake ;  no  amount  of 
counting,  or  mental  exercise  on  the  sub- 
ject of  "  sheep  going  through  a  hedge  " 
had  any  effect,  and  I  found  myself  lying 
awake,  listening.  Yes,  I  knew  that  I 
was  listening  for  something  that  I  should 
hear  before  long,  but  I  did  not  Icnow  what. 
"  Hark  !  what  was  that  ?  "  a  sudden 
[85] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


thud,  as  if  something  had  fallen  some- 
where in  the  house  ;  then  silence,  except 
for  the  loud  beating  of  my  heart,  that 
threatened  to  suffocate  me.  "  Nonsense," 
I  said  to  myself,  "  I  am  foolishly  nervous 
to-night.  It  is  nothing  here,  or  Bogie 
would  bark  ;  "  so  I  tried  again  to  sleep. 
Hush  !  Surely  that  was  a  footstep  go- 
ing up  or  down  the  stairs  !  I  could  not 
endure  the  agony  of  being  alone  any 
longer,  but  would  go  to  my  sister's  room, 
just  across  the  landing,  and  get  her  to 
come  and  stay  the  rest  of  the  night  with 
me.  I  put  on  my  slippers  and  dressing- 
gown,  and  opening  my  door,  came  face 
to  face  with  my  sister,  who  was  coming 
to  me. 

"  Let  me  come  in,"  she  said,  "  and 
don't  let  us  alarm  the  girls,  but  I  feel 
certain  something  is  going  on  down-stairs.A 


How  He  Left  Us 


Bogie  barked  furiously  an  hour  ago,  and 
then  was  suddenly  silent." 

"  That  must  have  been  when  I  was 
asleep,"  I  replied ;  "  but  no  doubt  Joe 
heard  him,  and  has  taken  him  in." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  my  sister,  "  but  I 
have  kept  on  hearing  queer  noises  at  the 
•back  of  the  house  ;  they  seemed  in  Joe's 
room  at  first.  Come  and  listen  yourself 
on  the  stairs." 

It  is  strange,  but  true,  that  many  per- 
sons, horribly  nervous  at  the  thought  of 
danger,  find  all  their  presence  of  mind  in 
full  force  when  actually  called  upon  to 
face  it.  So  it  is  with  me,  and  so  it  was 
on  that  night.  I  stood  on  the  landing, 
and  listened,  and  in  a  few  moments  heard 
muffled  sounds  down-stairs,  like  persons 
moving  about  stealthily. 

"  There  is  certainly  somebody  down 
[87] 


JDO- 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


there,  Nelly,"  I  said  to  my  sister,  "  and 
they  are  down  in  the  basement.  If  we 
could  creep  down  quietly  and  get  into 
the  drawing-room,  we  might  open  the 
window  and  call  the  watchman  or  police- 
man ;  both  are  on  duty  until  seven." 

"  But  think,"  said  my  sister,  "  of  the 
fright  of  the  girls  if  they  hear  us,  and 
find  they  are  left  alone.  The  servants, 
too,  will  scream,  and  rush  about,  as  they 
always  do.  Let  us  go  down  and  make 
sure  there  are  thieves,  and  then  see  what 
is  best  to  be  done.  The  door  at  the  top 
of  the  kitchen  stairs  is  locked,  so  they 
must  be  down  there ;  and  perhaps  if  we 
could  get  the  watchman  to  come  in 
quietly,  we  might  catch  them  in  a  trap, 
by  letting  him  through  the  drawing-room, 
and  into  the  conservatory.  He  could  get 
into  the  garden  from  there,  and  as  they 
[88] 


1 


H[ow  He  Left  Us 


must  have  got  in  that  way  from  the  mews 
over  the  stable  wall,  and  through  the 
garden,  they  would  try  to  escape  the 
same  way,  and  the  watchman  would  be 
waiting  for  them,  and  cut  off  their  re- 
treat." 

I  agreed,  and  we  stole  down-stairs  into 
the  drawing-room,  where  we  locked  our- 
selves in,  then  very  gently  and  carefully 
drew  up  one  of  the  side  blinds  of  the  bay 
window.  The  morning  had  begun  to 
break,  and  everything  in  the  wide  road 
was  distinctly  visible.  In  the  distance  I 
could  see  the  policeman  on  duty,  but  on 
the  opposite  side,  and  going  away  from 
our  house  instead  of  towards  it.  He 
would  turn  the  corner  at  the  top  of  the 
road,  and  go  past  the  houses  parallel 
with  the  backs  of  our  row,  and  then  ap- 
pear at  the  opposite  end  of  the  park,  and 
[89] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 
< 


come  along  our  side ;  there  was  no  inter- 
mediate turning — nothing  but  an  un- 
broken row  of  about  forty  detached 
houses  facing  each  other. 

What  could  we  do  ?  I  dared  not  wait 
until  the  policeman  came  back  ;  quite 
twenty  minutes  must  pass  before  then, 
and  day  being  so  near  at  hand,  the  light 
was  increasing  every  moment,  and  the 
burglars  would  surely  not  leave  without 
visiting  the  drawing-room  and  dining- 
room,  and  would  perhaps  murder  us,  to 
save  themselves  from  detection. 

If  I  could  only  attract  the  policeman's 
attention,  but  how  ? 

My  sister  was  close  to  the  door  listen- 
ing, and  every  instant  we  dreaded  hear- 
ing them  coming  up  the  kitchen  stairs. 
I  could  not  understand  Bogie  not  bark- 
ing, and  Joe  not  waking,  for  where  I  was 
[90] 


I  could  distinctly  hear  the  men  moving 
about  in  the  pantry  and  kitchen. 

"  I  wonder,"  I  said  to  my  sister,  "  if  I 
could  put  something  across  from  this 
balcony  to  the  stonework  by  the  front 
steps?  It  seems  such  a  little  distance, 
and  if  I  could  step  across,  I  could  open 
the  front  gate  in  an  instant,  and  run 
after  the  policeman.  I  shall  try." 

"  You  will  fall  and  kill  yourself,"  my 
sister  said ;  "  the  space  is  much  wider 
than  you  think." 

But  I  was  determined  to  try,  for  if 
I  let  that  policeman  go  out  of  sight, 
what  horrors  might  happen  in  the 
twenty  minutes  before  he  would  come 
back. 

The  idea  of  one  of  the  girls  waking 
and  calling  out,  or  Joe  waking  and  being 
shot  or  stabbed,  gave  me  a  feeling  of  des- 


=00= 


\\  ^**"-     ^ "   "  *  ^x-  -\^  •  —  — -    — , 

]  The  Story  of  J.  Cole 

(^^^^ 


peration,  as  though  I  alone  could  and 
must  save  them. 

Luckily  the  house  was  splendidly 
built,  every  window-sash  sliding  noise- 
lessly and  easily  in  its  groove.  I  opened 
the  one  nearest  to  the  hall-door  steps, 
and  saw  that  the  stone  ledge  abutted  to 
within  about  two  feet  of  the  low  balcony 
of  the  window  ;  but  I  was  too  nervous  to 
trust  myself  to  spring  across  even  that 
distance.  At  that  moment  my  sister 
whispered : 

"  I  hear  somebody  coming  up  the 
kitchen  stairs ! " 

Desperately  I  cast  my  eyes  round  the 
room  for  something  to  bridge  the  open 
space  that  would  bear  my  weight,  if  only 
for  a  moment.  The  fender-stool  caught 
my  eye ;  that  might  do  ;  it  was  strong, 
and  more  than  long  enough.  In  an  in- 
[92] 


H 


e  looked  up  and  saw  me.        —Page  93- 


=00= 


How  He  Left  Us 


stant  we  had  it  across  and  I  was  out  of 
the  window  and  down  the  front  steps. 

As  I  turned  the  handle  of  the  heavy 
iron  gate,  I  looked  down  at  the  front 
kitchen  window.  A  man  stood  in  the 
kitchen,  and  he  looked  up  and  saw  me 
— such  a  horrible-looking  ruffian,  too. 
Fear  lent  wings  to  my  feet,  and  I  flew  up 
the  road  ;  the  watchman  was  just  enter- 
ing the  park  from  the  opposite  end,  he 
saw  me,  and  sounded  his  whistle  ;  the 
policeman  turned  and  ran  towards  me. 
I  was  too  exhausted  to  speak,  and  he 
caught  me,  just  as,  having  gasped 
"  Thieves  at  50 1  "  (the  number  of  our 
house),  I  fell  forward  in  a  dead  swoon. 

When  I  recovered,  I  was  lying  on  my 

own  bed,  my  sister,  the  scared  servants, 

and     the     policeman,    all     around    me. 

From  them   I   heard   that  directly  the 

[93] 


Story  of  J.  Cole 


man  in  the  kitchen  caught  sight  of  me, 
he  warned  his  companion,  who  was  busy 
forcing  the  lock  of  the  door  at  the  head 
of  the  kitchen  stairs,  and  my  sister  heard 
them  both  rushing  across  the  garden, 
where  they  had  a  ladder  against  the 
stable-wall.  They  must  have  pulled  this 
up  after  them,  and  tossed  it  into  the  next 
garden,  where  it  was  found,  to  delay  pur- 
suit. The  park-keeper  had,  after  the 
sounding  of  his  whistle,  rushed  to  our 
house,  got  in  at  the  window,  and  ran  to 
the  door  at  the  top  of  the  kitchen  stairs, 
but  it  was  quite  impossible  to  open  it ; 
the  burglars  had  cleverly  left  something 
in  the  lock  when  disturbed,  and  the  key 
would  not  turn.  He  then  went  through 
the  drawing-room  into  the  conservatory, 
where  a  glass  door  opened  on  the  garden, 
but  by  the  time  the  heavy  sliding  glass 
[94] 


How  He  Left  Us 


panel  was  unfastened,  and  the  inner  doer 
unbolted,  the  men  had  disappeared  ;  they 
took  with  them  much  less  than  they 
hoped  to  have  done,  for  there  were  par- 
cels and  packets  of  spoons,  forks,  and  a 
case  of  very  handsome  gold  salt  cellars,  a 
marriage  gift,  always  kept  in  a  baize-lined 
chest  in  the  pantry,  the  key  of  which  I 
retained,  and  which  chest  was  supposed 
until  now  to  be  proof  against  burglars ; 
the  lock  had  been  burned  all  round  with 
some  instrument,  most  likely  a  poker 
heated  in  the  gas,  and  then  forced  in- 
wards from  the  burned  woodwork. 

"  How  was  it,"  I  asked,  "  Joe  did 
not  wake  during  all  this,  or  Bogie 
bark?" 

As  I  asked  the  question,  I  noticed  that 
my  sister  turned  away,  and  Mrs.  Wilson, 
after  vainly  endeavoring  to  look  uncon- 
[95] 


=£0= 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


cerned,  threw  her  apron  suddenly  over 
her  head,  and  burst  out  crying. 

"What  is  the  matter?  "  I  said,  sitting 
up  ;  "  what  are  you  all  hiding  from  me  ? 
Send  Joe  to  me ;  I  will  learn  the  truth 
from  him." 

At  this  the  policeman  came  forward, 
and  then  I  heard  that  Joe  was  missing, 
his  room  was  in  great  disorder,  and  one 
of  his  shoes,  evidently  dropped  in  his 
hurry,  had  been  found  in  the  garden, 
near  some  spoons  thrown  down  by  the 
thieves ;  his  clothes  were  gone,  so  he  evi- 
dently had  dressed  himself  after  pretend- 
ing to  go  to  bed  as  usual ;  his  blankets 
and  sheets  were  taken  away,  used  no 
doubt,  the  policeman  said,  to  wrap  up  the 
stolen  things. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  I  asked, "  that  you  sus- 
pect Joe  is  in  league  with  these  burglars?" 
[96] 


"  Well,  mum,"  said  the  man,  "  it  looks 
queer,  and  very  like  it.  He  slept  down- 
stairs close  to  the  very  door  where  they 
got  in  ;  he  never  gives  no  alarm,  he  must 
have  been  expecting  something,  or  else 
why  was  he  dressed  ?  And  how  did  his 
shoe  come  in  the  garden?  And  what's 
more  to  the  point,  if  so  be  as  he's  inner- 
cent,  where  is  he  ?  These  young  rascals 
is  that  artful,  you'd  be  surprised  to  know 
the  dodges  they're  up  to." 

"  But,"  I  interrupted,  "  it  is  impossible, 
it  is  cruel  to  suspect  him.  He  is  gone, 
true  enough,  but  I'm  sure  he  will  come 
back.  Perhaps  he  ran  after  the  men  to 
try  and  catch  them  and  dropped  his  shoe 
then." 

"That's  not  likely,  mum,"  said  he, 
with  a  pitying  smile  at  my  ignorance  of 
circumstantial  evidence ;  "  he'd  have 
[97] 


^^he  Story  of  J.  Cole 
> 

called  out  to  stop  'em,  and  it  ain't  likely 
they'd  have  let  him  get  up  their  ladder, 
afore  chucking  of  it  into  the  next  garden, 
if  so  be  as  he  was  a-chasing  of  'em  to  get 
'em  took.  No,  mar'm ;  I'm  very  sorry, 
particular  as  you  seem  so  kindly  dis- 
posed ;  but,  in  my  humble  opinion,  he's 
a  artful  young  dodger,  and  this  'ere  job 
has  been  planned  ever  so  long,  and  he's 
connived  at  it,  and  has  hooked  it  along 
with  his  pals.  I  knows  'em,  but  we'll 
soon  nab  him  ;  and  if  so  be  as  you'll  be 
so  kind  as  to  let  me  take  down  in  writin' 
all  you  knows  about  '  J.  Cole,'  which  is 
his  name,  I'm  informed — where  you  took 
him  from,  his  character,  and  previous 
career,  it  will  help  considerable  in  laying 
hands  on  him ;  and  when  he's  found 
we'll  soon  find  his  pals." 

Of  course,  I  told  all  I  knew  about  Joe. 
[98] 


How  He  Left  Us 
C 

I  felt  positive  he  would  come  back,  per- 
haps in  a  few  minutes,  to  explain  every- 
thing. Besides,  there  was  Bogie,  too. 
Why  should  he  take  Bogie  ?  The  police- 
man suggested  that  "  perhaps  the  dawg 
foller'd  him,  and  he  had  taken  along 
with  him,  to  prevent  being  traced  by  its 
means."  At  length,  all  this  questioning 
being  over,  the  household  settled  down 
into  a  sort  of  strange  calm.  It  seemed  to 
us  days  since  we  had  said  "  Good-night," 
and  sought  our  rooms  on  that  night,  and 
yet  it  was  only  twenty-four  hours  ago ;  in 
that  short  time  how  much  had  taken 
place  !  On  going  over  all  the  plate,  etc., 
we  missed  many  more  things ;  and  Mrs. 
Wilson,  whose  faith  in  Joe's  honesty 
never  wavered,  began  to  think  the  poor 
boy  might  have  been  frightened  at  hav- 
ing slept  through  the  robbery ;  and  as  he 
[99] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


was  so  proud  of  having  the  plate  used 
every  day  in  his  charge,  when  he  discov- 
ered it  had  been  stolen,  he  might  have 
feared  we  should  blame  him  so  much  for 
it,  that  he  had  run  away  home  to  his  peo- 
ple in  his  fright,  meaning  to  ask  his 
father,  or  his  adored  Dick,  to  return  to 
me  and  plead  for  him.  I  thought,  too, 
this  was  possible,  for  I  know  how  terribly 
he  would  reproach  himself  for  letting 
anything  in  his  care  be  stolen.  I  there- 
fore made  up  my  mind  to  telegraph  to 
his  father  at  once ;  but  not  to  alarm 
him,  I  said : 

"  Is  Joe  with  you  ?    Have  reason  to 
think  he  has  gone  home.     Answer  back." 

The  answer  came  some  hours  after,  for 
in   those   small   villages  communication 
was  difficult.     The  reply  ran  thus  : 
[100] 


=00= 


How  He  Left  Us 


"  We  have  not  seen  Joe ;  if  he  comes 
to-night  will  write  at  once.  Hoping  there 
is  nothing  wrong." 

So  that  surmise  was  a  mistake,  for  Joe 
had  money,  and  would  go  by  train  if  he 
went  home,  and  be  there  in  two  hours. 

All  the  household  sat  up  nearly  all  that 
night,  or  rested  uncomfortably  on  sofas 
and  armchairs ;  we  felt  too  unsettled  to 
go  to  bed,  though  worn  out  with  sus- 
pense, and  the  previous  excitement  and 
fright.  Officials  and  detectives  came  and 
went  during  the  evening,  and  looked 
about  for  traces  of  the  robbers,  and  before 
night  a  description  of  the  stolen  things, 
and  a  most  minute  one  of  Joe,  were 
posted  outside  the  police  stations,  and  all 
round  London  for  miles.  A  reward  of 
twenty  pounds  was  offered  for  Joe,  and 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


my  heart  ached  to  know  there  was  a 
hue  and  cry  after  him  like  a  common 
thief. 

What  would  the  old  parents  think? 
and  how  would  Dick  feel  ? — Dick,  whose 
good  counsels  and  careful  training  had 
made  Joe  what  I  knew  he  was,  in  spite  of 
every  suspicion. 

The  next  day  I  still  felt  sure  he  would 
come,  and  I  went  down  into  the  room 
where  he  used  to  sleep,  and  saw  Mrs. 
Wilson  had  put  all  in  order,  and  fresh 
blankets  and  sheets  were  on  the  little 
bed,  all  ready  for  him.  So  many  things 
put  me  in  mind  of  the  loving,  gentle  dis- 
position. A  little  flower  vase  I  valued 
very  much  had  been  broken  by  Bogie 
romping  with  one  of  my  nieces,  and 
knocking  it  down.  It  was  broken  in 
more  than  twenty  pieces  ;  and  after  I  had 
[102] 


patiently  tried  to  mend  it  myself,  and  my 
nieces,  with  still  greater  patience,  had 
had  their  turn  at  it,  we  had  given  it  up 
as  a  bad  job,  and  thought  it  had  long  ago 
gone  on  to  the  dust-heap. 

There  were  some  shelves  on  the  wall 
of  Joe's  room,  where  his  treasures  were 
kept,  and  on  one  of  these  shelves,  covered 
with  an  old  white  handkerchief,  was  a 
little  tray  containing  the  vase,  a  bottle 
of  cement  and  camel's  hair  brush.  The 
mending  was  finished,  all  but  two  or 
three  of  the  smallest  pieces,  and  beauti- 
fully done  ;  it  must  have  taken  time,  and 
an  amount  of  patience  that  put  my  efforts 
and  those  of  the  girls  to  shame  ;  but  Joe's 
was  a  labor  of  love,  and  did  not  weary 
him.  He  would  probably  have  put  it  in  its 
usual  place  one  morning,  when  mended, 
and  said  nothing  about  it  until  I  found  it 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


out,  and  then  confessed,  in  his  own  queer 
way,  "  Please,  I  knew  you  was  sorry  it 
was  broke,  and  so  I  mended  it ; "  then  he 
would  have  hurried  away,  flushed  with 
pleasure  at  my  few  words  of  thanks  and 
praise. 

On  the  mantelpiece  were  more  of  Joe's 
treasures — four  or  five  cheap  photographs, 
the  subjects  quite  characteristic  of  Joe. 
One  of  them  was  a  religious  subject,  "  The 
Shepherd,  with  a  little  lamb  on  his 
shoulders."  A  silent  prayer  went  up 
from  my  heart  that  somewhere  that  same 
Good  Shepherd  was  finding  lost  Joe,  and 
bringing  him  safely  back  to  us. 

There  were  some  pebbles  he  had  picked 
up  during  a  memorable  trip  to  Margate 
with  Dick,  a  year  before  I  saw  him ; 
which  pebbles  he  firmly  believed  were 
real  "  aggits,"  and  had  promised  to  have 
[  '04  ] 


How  He  Left  Us 


them  polished  soon,  and  made  into  brooch 
and  earrings  for  Mrs.  Wilson. 

There  was  a  very  old-fashioned  photo- 
graph of  myself  that  I  had  torn  in  half, 
and  thrown  into  the  waste-paper  basket. 
I  saw  this  had  been  carefully  joined  to- 
gether and  enclosed  in  a  cheap  frame — 
the  only  one  that  could  boast  of  being  so 
preserved.  I  suppose  Joe  could  only  af- 
ford one  frame,  and  his  sense  of  the  fit- 
ness of  things  made  him  choose  the 
missis'  picture  to  be  first  honored. 

How  sad  I  felt  looking  round  the  room  I 
People  may  smile  at  my  feeling  so  sad 
and  concerned  about  a  servant,  a  com- 
mon, low-born  page-boy.  Aye.  smile  on, 
if  you  will,  but  tell  me,  m}^  friend,  can 
you  say,  if  you  were  in  Joe's  position  at 
that  time,  with  circumstantial  evidence 
so  strong  against  you,  poor  and  lowly  as 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


he  was,  are  there  four  or  five,  or  even  two 
or  three  of  your  friends  who  would  be- 
lieve in  you,  stand  up  for  you,  and  trust 
in  you,  in  spite  of  all,  as  we  did  for  Joe  ? 

I  had  gone  up  to  my  sitting-room,  after 
telling  Mary  to  light  the  fire  in  poor  Joe's 
room,  and  let  it  look  warm  and  cozy,  for 
I  had  some  sort  of  presentiment  that  I 
should  see  the  poor  boy  again  very  soon 
— how  I  knew  not,  but  I  have  all  my  life 
been  subject  to  spiritual  influences,  and 
have  seldom  been  mistaken  in  them. 

We  were  all  thinking  of  going  early  to 
rest,  for  since  the  robbery  none  of  us  had 
had  any  real  sleep.  Suddenly  the  front 
door  bell  rang  timidly,  as  if  the  visitor 
were  not  quite  sure  of  its  being  right  to 
pull  the  handle. 

"  Perhaps  that's  Joe,"  said  my  sister. 

But  I  knew  Joe  would  not  ring  that  bell. 
[106] 


How  He  Left  Us 


We  heard  Mary  open  the  door,  and  a 
man's  voice  ask  if  Mr.  Aylmer  lived 
there. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary,  "  but  he  is  abroad, 
but  you  can  see  Mrs.  Aylmer." 

Then  came  a  low  murmuring  of  voices, 
and  Mary  came  in,  saying : 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  it's  Dick,  Joe's  brother, 
and  he  says  may  he  see  you  ?  " 

"  Send  him  in  here  at  once,"  I  replied. 

And  in  a  moment  Dick  stood  before 
me — Dick,  Joe's  beau-ideal  of  all  that  was 
good,  noble,  and  to  be  admired.  I  must 
say  the  mind-picture  I  had  formed  of  Dick 
was  totally  unlike  the  reality.  I  had  ex- 
pected to  see  a  sunburned  big  fellow,  with 
broad  shoulders  and  expressive  features. 

The  real  Dick  was  a  thin,  delicate-look- 
ing young  man,  with  a  pale  face,  and 
black,  straight  hair.  He  stood  with  his 
[107] 


Story  of  J.  Cole 


hat  in  his  hand,  looking  down  as  if  afraid 
to  speak. 

"  Oh,  pray  come  in,"  I  cried,  going  for- 
ward to  meet  him.  "  I  know  who  you 
are.  Oh,  have  you  brought  me  any  news 
of  poor  Joe  ?  We  are  all  his  friends  here, 
his  true  friends,  and  you  must  let  us  be 
yours,  too,  in  this  trouble.  Have  you 
seen  him  ?  " 

At  my  words  the  bowed  head  was  lifted 
up,  and  then  I  saw  Dick's  face  as  it  was. 
If  ever  truth,  honor,  and  generosity  looked 
out  from  the  windows  of  a  soul,  they 
looked  out  of  those  large  blue  eyes  of 
Dick's — eyes  so  exactly  like  Joe's  in  ex- 
pression, that  the  black  lashes  instead  of 
the  fair  ones  seemed  wrong  somehow. 

"  God  bless  you,  lady,  for  them  words," 
said  Dick,  and  before  I  could  prevent  it 
he  had  knelt  at  my  feet,  caught  my  hand 
[108] 


A 


nd  then  I  saw  Dick's  face  as  it  was. 

—Page  108. 


How  He  Left  Us 
< 

and  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  while  wild  sobs 
broke  from  him. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  said,  rising  to  his 
feet  and  leaning  with  one  hand  on  the 
back  of  a  chair,  his  whole  frame  shaking 
with  emotion.  "  Forgive  me  for  givin' 
way  like  this ;  but  I've  seen  them  papers 
about  our  Joe,  and  I  know  what's  being 
thought  of  him,  and  I've  come  here 
ashamed  to  see  you,  thinkin'  you  believed 
as  the  rest  do,  that  Joe  robbed  you  after 
all  your  goodness  to  him.  Why,  lady,  I 
tell  you  rather  than  I'd  believe  that  of 
my  little  lad,  as  I  thrashed  till  my  heart 
almost  broke  to  hear  him  sob,  for  the  only 
lie  as  he  ever  told  in  all  his  life ;  if  I 
could  believe  it,  I'd  take  father's  old  gun 
and  end  my  life,  for  I'd  be  a  beast,  not  fit 
to  live  any  longer.  And  I  thought  you 
doubted  him  too  ;  but  now  I  hear  you  say 
[  I09] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


you're  his  friend,  and  believes  in  him, 
and  don't  think  he  robbed  you,  I  know 
now  there's  good  folks  in  the  world,  and 
there's  mercy  and  justice,  and  it  ain't  all 
wrong,  as  I'd  come  a'most  to  think  as  it 
was,  when  I  first  know'd  about  this 
'ere." 

"  Sit  down,  Dick,"  I  said,  "  and  re- 
cover yourself,  and  let  us  see  what  can  be 
done.  I  will  tell  you  all  that  has  hap- 
pened, and  then  perhaps  you  can  throw 
some  light  on  Joe's  conduct — you  who 
know  him  so  well." 

Dick  sat  down,  and  shading  his  eyes 
with  his  hand  that  his  tears  might  not 
betray  his  weakness  any  more,  he  listened 
quietly  while  I  went  over  all  the  events 
of  that  dreadful  night. 

When  I  had  finished,  Dick  sat  for  some 
moments  quite  silent,  then  with  a  weary 
[110] 


How  He  Left  Us 


gesture  passing  his  hand  across  his  fore- 
head, he  remarked  sadly  : 

"  I  can't  make  nothing  of  it  ;  it's  a 
thing  beyond  my  understanding.  I'm 
that  dazed  like  I  can't  see  nothin' 
straight.  However,  what  I've  got  to  do 
is  to  find  Joe,  and  that  I  mean  to  do  ;  if 
he's  alive  I'll  find  him,  and  then  let  him 
speak  for  hisself.  I  don't  believe  he's 
done  nothing  wrong,  but  if  he  has  done 
ever  so  little  or  ever  so  much,  he'll  '  own 
up  to  it  whatever  it  is,1  that's  what  Joe'll 
do.  I  told  him  to  lay  by  them  words 
and  hold  to  'em,  and  I'll  lay  my  life 
he'll  do  as  I  told  him.  I've  got  a  bed 
down  Marylebone  way  at  my  aunt's 
what's  married  to  a  policeman  ;  I'm  to 
stay  there,  and  I'll  have  a  talk  with 
'em  about  this  and  get  some  advice.  I 
know  Joe's  innercent,  and  why  don't 
[in] 


,00= 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


he  come  and  say  so  ?  But  I'll  find 
him." 

I  inquired  about  the  old  people,  and 
how  they  bore  their  trial, 

"  Father's  a'most  beside  hisself,"  said 
Dick  ;  "  and  only  that  he's  got  to  keep 
mother  in  the  dark  about  this,  he'd  have 
come  with  me ;  but  mother,  she  a-bed 
with  rheumatics,  and  Doctor  told  father 
her  heart  was  weak  like,  and  she  mustn't 
be  told,  or  it  would  p'raps  kill  her.  She 
thinks  a  deal  of  Joe,  does  mother,  being 
the  youngest,  and  always  such  a  sort  of 
lovin'  little  chap  he  were."  And  here 
Dick's  voice  broke  again,  and  I  made  him 
go  down  to  Mrs.  Wilson,  and  have  some 
refreshment  before  leaving,  and  he  prom- 
ised to  see  me  again  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  when  he  had  talked  to  his 
friend,  the  policeman. 


How  He  Left  Us 


Scarcely  had  Dick  gone,  when  a  loud, 
and  this  time  firm  ring,  announced  an- 
other visitor,  and  in  a  cab,  too,  I  could 
hear.  Evidently  there  was  no  going  to 
rest  early  that  night,  as  ten  o'clock  was 
then  striking. 

Soon,  to  my  surprise,  I  heard  a  well- 
known  voice,  and  Mary  announced  Dr. 
Loring — my  husband's  old  friend,  of 
whom  I  have  already  spoken. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  he  cried,  in  his  pleas- 
ant, cheerful  voice,  that  in  itself  seemed 
to  lift  some  of  the  heaviness  from  my 
heart,  "  are  you  not  astonished  to  see  me 
at  such  an  hour  ?  " 

"  Astonished,  certainly,"  I  replied ; 
"  but  very,  very  glad.  You  are  always 
welcome  ;  and  more  than  ever  now,  when 
we  are  in  trouble  and  sorrow.  Do  sit 
down,  and  stay  with  me  awhile." 
["3] 


V    1 

1 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


"  Yes,  I  will,  for  an  hour,  gladly,"  he 
said.  "  But  there's  something  outside 
that  had  better  be  brought  in  first.  You 
know  I've  only  just  arrived  from  Devon- 
shire, and  there  are  two  barrels  of  Devon- 
shire apples  on  that  cab,  one  for  you  and 
one  for  the  wife  ;  that  is  why  you  see  me 
here  ;  for  I  thought  it  would  not  be  ten 
minutes  out  of  my  road  to  pass  by  here 
and  leave  them  with  you,  and  so  save  the 
trouble  of  sending  them  by  carrier  to- 
morrow." 

I  rang  for  Mary,  and  the  Doctor  sug- 
gested the  apples  being  put  somewhere 
where  the  smell  of  them  could  not  pene- 
trate up-stairs ;  for,  as  he  truly  remarked, 
"  though  a  fine  ripe  pippin  is  delicious  to 
eat  at  breakfast  or  luncheon,  the  smell  of 
them  shut  up  in  a  house  is  horrible." 

"  I  dare  say  Mrs.  Wilson  will  find  a 
["43 


How  He  Left  Us 


place  in  the  basement,"  I  said,  "  for  we 
don't  use  half  the  room  there  is  down 
there." 

Having  ordered  the  barrel  to  be  stowed 
away,  I  soon  settled  my  visitor  com- 
fortably in  an  armchair  by  the  fire, 
with  a  cup  of  his  favorite  cocoa  by  his 
side. 

"  And  now,  my  dear,"  said  he,  "  tell 
me  about  this  burglary  that  has  taken 
place,  and  which  has  made  you  look  as 
if  you  wanted  me  to  take  care  of  you 
awhile,  and  bring  back  some  color  to 
your  pale  cheeks.  And  what  about  this 
boy  ?  Is  it  the  same  queer  little  fellow 
who  chose  midnight  to  play  his  pranks 
in  once  before  ?  I'm  not  often  deceived 
in  a  face,  and  I  thought  his  was  an  hon- 
est one.  I " 

"  So  it  was,"   I   interrupted  ;   "  don't 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


say  a  word  until  I've  told  you  all,  and 
you  will " 

I  had  scarcely  begun  speaking,  when  a 
succession  of  the  most  fearful  screams 
arose  from  down-stairs,  each  rising  louder 
and  louder,  in  the  extreme  of  terror.  My 
sister,  who  had  gone  to  her  room,  rushed 
down  to  me ;  the  girls,  in  their  dressing- 
gowns,  just  as  they  were  preparing  for 
bed,  followed,  calling  out,  "  Auntie !  O 
Auntie  !  what  is  it?  Who  is  screaming? 
What  can  be  the  matter?"  Hardly 
were  they  in  the  room  when  Mary 
rushed  in,  ghastly,  her  eyes  staring,  and 
in  a  voice  hoarse  with  terror,  gasped  out, 
"  Come  !  come  !  he's  found  !  he's  mur- 
dered !  I  saw  him.  He's  lying  in  the 
cellar  with  his  throat  cut.  Oh,  it's  hor- 
rible I"  Then  she  began  to  scream  again. 

The  Doctor  tried  to  hold  me  back  ;  but 
[116] 


How  He  Left  Us 


I  broke  from  him,  and  ran  down-stairs, 
where  I  could  find  no  one ;  all  was  dark 
in  the  kitchens,  but  there  was  a  light  in 
the  area,  and  I  was  soon  there,  followed 
by  Dr.  Loring. 

By  the  open  cellar  door  stood  Mrs. 
Wilson,  and  the  cabman  with  her.  Di- 
rectly she  saw  me,  she  called  out,  "  Oh, 
dear  mistress,  don't  you  come  here  ;  it's 
not  a  sight  for  you.  Take  her  away,  Dr. 
Loring,  she  mustn't  see  it." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  cried  ;  "  Mary  says 

•it's "  I  could  not  say  the  words, 

but,  seizing  the  candle  from  Mrs.  Wil- 
son's hand,  I  went  into  the  cellar. 

The  good  Doctor  was  close  to  me,  with 
more  light,  by  the  aid  of  which  we  be- 
held, in  the  far  corner,  facing  us,  what 
seemed  to  be  a  bundle  of  blankets,  from 
which  protruded  a  head,  a  horrible  red 


JThe  Story  of  J.  Cole 
< 


stream  surrounding  it,  and  flowing,  as  it 
were,  from  the  open  mouth.  One  second 
brought  me  close.  It  was  Joe — Joe,  with 
his  poor  limbs  bound  with  cruel  ropes, 
and  in  his  mouth  for  a  gag  they  had 

«/ 

forced  one  of  those  bright  red  socks  he 
would  always  wear.  Thank  God,  it  was 
only  that  red  sock,  and  not  the  horrible 
red  stream  I  had  feared.  He  was  dead, 
of  course ;  but  not  such  a  fearful  death 
as  that. 

The  Doctor  soon  pulled  the  horrid  gag 
from  his  mouth,  and  the  good-natured 
cabman,  who  evidently  felt  for  us,  helped 
to  cut  the  ropes,  and  lift  up  the  poor  cold 
little  form. 

As    they   lifted   him,    something   that 

was  in  the  blankets  fell  heavily  to  the 

ground.     It  was  poor  Bogie's  dead  body, 

stabbed    in    many    places,   each   wound 

[118] 


How  He  Left  Us 


enough  to  have  let  out  the  poor  dumb 
creature's  life. 

By  this  time  help  had  arrived,  and 
once  more  the  police  took  possession  of 
us,  as  it  were. 

Of  course,  now  everything  was  ex- 
plained. The  burglars  had  evidently 
entered  Joe's  room,  and  Bogie,  being  in 
his  arms,  had  barked,  and  wakened  him. 
A  few  blows  had  soon  silenced  poor 
Bogie,  and  a  gag  and  cords  had  done  the 
same  for  Joe. 

When  the  man  saw  me  from  the 
kitchen  window  he  must  have  known 
that  help  would  soon  come,  and  to  pre- 
vent Joe  giving  information  too  soon 
they  had  hastily  seized  him,  bed-clothes 
and  all,  and  put  him  into  that  cellar,  to 
starve,  if  he  were  not  discovered. 

Perhaps  they  did  not  really  mean  to 
I"*] 


u 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 

6^=-=^^ 

kill  the  poor  child,  and  if  we  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  using  that  cellar  we 
might  have  found  him  in  a  few  hours  or 
less ;  but,  unfortunately,  it  was  a  place 
we  never  used,  it  reached  far  under  the 
street,  and  was  too  large  for  our  use. 
Our  coal-cellar  was  a  much  smaller  one, 
inside  the  scullery ;  the  door  of  poor 
Joe's  prison  closed  with  a  common  latch. 

Had  there  been  any  doubt  in  the  de- 
tective's mind  as  to  Joe's  guilt  he  might 
have  taken  more  trouble,  and  searched 
for  him,  even  there ;  but  from  the  first 
everybody  but  ourselves  had  been  sure 
Joe  had  escaped  with  the  burglars,  so  the 
cellar  remained  unsearched. 

Mrs.  Wilson,  wishing  to  spare  me  the 

smell  of  the  apples,  thought  that  cellar, 

being  outside  the  house,  a  very  suitable 

place  for  them,  and  on  opening  the  door 

[  120] 


r 


How  He  Left  Us 


had  caught  sight  of  something  in  the 
distant  corner,  and  sent  Mary  to  see  what 
it  was.  Then  arose  those  fearful  shrieks 
we  had  heard,  and  Mary  had  rushed  out 
of  the  cellar  half  mad  with  fright. 

In  less  time  than  it  has  taken  me  to 
relate  this,  Joe  was  laid  on  the  rug  before 
the  drawing-room  fire,  and  I  summoned 
courage  to  look  on  the  changed  face. 

"  Could  that  be  Joe — so  white,  so 
drawn,  so  still  ?  " 

Dr.  Loring  was  kneeling  by  the  little 
form,  chafing  and  straightening  the  poor 
stiffened  arms,  so  bent  with  their  cruel 
pinioning  behind  the  shoulders. 

"  Doctor,"  I  said,  "  why  do  you  do  any 
more  ?  Nothing  can  bring  back  the  poor 
fellow,  murdered  while  doing  his  duty." 
Then  I,  too,  knelt  down  and  took  the 
poor,  cold  hands  in  mine. 

[121] 


\/ 


(r^^^-rr       TL=±=^=^p 

The  Story  of  J.  Cole 

6=^=  =TX==^J==::^=^) 


"  Oh,  my  poor  child  !  "  I  cried,  "  my 
little,  brave  heart ;  who  dared  say  you 
were  false  ?  Let  those  who  doubted  you 
look  at  you  now,  with  dry  eyes,  if  they 
can." 

"  My  dear,"  said  Dr.  Loring,  suddenly, 
"have  you  always  hot  water  in  your 
bath-room  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Doctor,"  I  said  ;  "  yes.  Why  do 
you  ask  ?  Do  you  mean — is  it  possible 
— there  is  life  ?  "  And  I  took  Joe's  little 
head  in  my  arms,  and  forgot  he  was  only 
a  servant,  only  a  poor,  common  little 
page-boy.  I  only  know  I  pressed  him  to 
my  breast,  and  called  him  by  all  the  en- 
dearing names  I  used  to  call  my  own 
children  in  after  years,  when  God  gave  me 
some,  and  kissed  his  white  forehead  in 
my  joy  at  the  blessed  ray  of  hope. 

No  want  of  willing  arms  to  carry  Joe 
[  122] 


N 


o  want  of  willing  arms  to  carry  Joe 
upstairs.  -Pase  I22- 


c 

How  He  Left  Us 


up-stairs.  Mrs.  Wilson  had  the  bath 
filled  before  the  Doctor  was  in  the  room 
with  his  light  burden. 

"  A  few  drops  of  brandy,  to  moisten 
the  lips,  first  of  all,"  said  the  good  Doc- 
tor, "  then  the  bath  and  gentle  friction  ; 
there  is  certainly  life  in  him." 

Now,  my  good  sister's  clever  nursing 
proved  invaluable.     All  that   night   we 
fought  every  inch  of  ground,  as  it  were, 
with   our  grim   enemy ;   the  dear,  good 
Doctor  never  relaxing  in  his   efforts  to 
bring   back   life  to   the   cramped  limbs. 
The  burglars  had  unknowingly  helped  to 
keep  alight  Joe's  feeble  spark  of  life  by 
wrapping  the  blankets  round  him  ;  they 
had  meant,  no  doubt,  to  stifle  any  sound 
he  might   make;  but   by   keeping   him 
from  actual  contact  with  the  stone  floor, 
and  protecting  him  from  the  cold,  they 
["3] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


had     given    him    his    little    chance    of 
life. 

Oh,  how  blessed  that  kind  thought  of 
Dr.  Loring's  to  bring  me  a  barrel  of  ap- 
ples !  Had  there  been  no  occasion  to 
open  the  cellar  door  Joe  would  have  died 
before  another  morning  had  dawned, 
died  !  starved  !  What  a  horrible  death  ! 
And  to  know  that  within  a  few  steps 
were  food,  warmth,  and  kind  hearts — 
hearts  even  then  saddened  by  his  ab- 
sence, and  grieving  for  him.  What  hours 
of  agony  he  must  have  passed  in  the  cold 
and  darkness,  hearing  the  footsteps  of 
passers-by  above  his  living  tomb,  and 
feeling  the  pangs  of  hunger  and  thirst. 
What  weeks  those  three  days  must  have 
seemed  to  him  in  their  fearful  darkness, 
until  insensibility  mercifully  came  to  his 
aid,  and  bushed  his  senses  to  oblivion. 
[124] 


1= 

(JL^== 


=00= 


How  He  Left  Us 


Morning  was  far  advanced  when,  at 
last,  Joe's  eyelids  began  to  flutter,  and 
his  eyes  opened  a  very  little,  to  close 
again  immediately  ;  even  the  subdued 
light  we  had  let  into  the  room  being 
too  much  for  him  to  bear  after  so  long 
a  darkness  ;  but  in  that  brief  glance 
he  had  recognized  me,  and  seeing  his 
lips  move,  I  bent  my  head  close  to 
them. 

Only  a  faint  murmuring  came,  but  I 
distinguished  the  words  : 

"  Missis,  I  couldn't  'elp  it  !  Forgive 
me.  Say  '  Our  Father.'  " 

I  knelt  down,  and  as  well  as  I  could 
for  the  tears  that  almost  choked  me,  re- 
peated that  most  simple,  yet  all-satisfying 
petition  to  the  Throne  of  Grace. 

Meanwhile  the  Doctor  held  Joe's  wrist, 
and  my  sister,  at  a  sign  from  him,  put  a 


Tie  Story  of  J.  Cole 


few  drops  of  nourishment  between  the 
pale  lips. 

"  My  dear,"  at  length  said  the  doctor, 
"  did  you  say  the  boy's  brother  was  in 
London  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  but  I  have  no  ad- 
dress, as  I  expect  him  here  this  morning." 

"  That  is  well ;  he  may  be  in  time." 

"In  time?"  I  repeated;  "in  time  for 
what?  Is  he  dying?  Can  nothing  be 
done?" 

The  good  Doctor  looked  again  with 
moistened  eyes  on  the  little  white  face, 
and  said  sadly : 

"  I  fear  not,  but  the  sight  of  this  brother 
he  seems  to  have  such  a  strong  love  for 
may  rouse  him  for  a  while.  As  it  is,  he 
is  sinking  fast.  I  can  do  no  more  ;  he  is 
beyond  human  skill ;  but  love  and  God's 
help  may  yet  save  him.  Poor  little  fellow, 
£126] 


How  He  Left  Us 


he  has  done  his  duty  nobly,  and  even  to 
die  doing  that  is  an  enviable  fate  ;  but  we 
want  such  boys  as  this  to  live,  and  show 
others  the  way." 

There  was  a  slight  sound  at  the  room 
door,  and  on  turning  round  I  saw  Dick 
— Dick  with  wild,  dumb  entreaty  in  his 
eyes. 

I  pointed  to  the  bed,  and  with  a  whis- 
pered "  Hush  !  "  beckoned  him  to  enter. 

The  shock  of  seeing  his  loved  little  lad 
so  changed  was  too  much  for  even  his 
man's  courage,  for  with  a  cry  he  in  vain 
strove  to  smother,  he  sank  on  his  knees 
with  his  face  hidden  in  his  hands. 

But  only  for  a  moment  he  let  his  grief 
overcome  him  ;  then  rising,  he  took  Joe's 
little  form  in  his  arms,  and  in  a  voice  to 
which  love  gave  the  softest  and  gentlest 
tones  said  : 

[  I27] 


=00: 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


"  Joe,  lad !  Joe,  little  chap !  here's 
Dick.  Look  at  poor  old  Dick.  Don't 
you  know  him?  Don't  go  away  with- 
out sayin'  good-bye  to  Dick  wot  loves 
you." 

Slowly  a  little  fluttering  smile  parted 
the  lips,  and  the  blue  eyes  unclosed  once 
more.  "  Dick  I  "  he  gasped  ;  "  I  wanted 
to  tell  you,  Dick,  but — I — can't.  I — ain't 
forgot.  '  Own — up — to — it — wotever  ' — 
I  minded  it  all.  Kiss  me — Dick.  God 
— bless — missis.  Dick — take  me — home 
— to — mother  !  " 

And  with  a  gentle  sigh,  in  the  arms  of 
the  brother  he  loved,  Joe  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep,  a  sleep  from  which  we  all  feared  he 
would  no  more  awake  on  earth,  and  we 
watched  him,  fearing  almost  to  move. 

Dick  held  him  in  his  arms  all  that 
morning,  and  presently  towards  noon  the 
[128] 


How  He  Left  Us 


Doctor  took  the  little  wrist  and  found  the 
pulse  still  feebly  beating ;  a  smile  lit  up 
his  good,  kind  face,  and  he  whispered  to 
me,  "  There  is  hope." 

"  Thank  God  1 "  I  whispered  back,  and 
ran  away  into  my  own  room  to  sob  out 
grateful  prayers  of  thanksgiving  to  heaven 
for  having  spared  the  life  so  nearly  lost 
to  us. 

When  I  went  back,  Joe  had  just  begun 
to  awaken,  and  was  looking  up  into  his 
beloved  Dick's  face,  murmuring — "  Why, 
it's  Dick.  Are  you  a-cryin'  about  me, 
Dick?  Don't  cry— I'm  all  right— I'm 
only  so  tired." 

And  having  drank  some  wine  the  Doctor 
had  ordered  should  be  given  him,  he 
nestled  close  to  Dick's  breast,  and  again 
fell  into  a  sweet  sleep,  a  better,  life-giving 
sleep  this  time,  for  the  faint  color  came 
[  '29  ] 


=00= 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


to  his  pale  little  lips,  and  presently  Dick 
laid  him  down  on  the  pillows,  and  rested 
his  own  weary  arms.  He  would  not 
move  from  Joe's  side  for  fear  he  might 
wake  and  miss  him,  but  for  many  hours 
our  little  fellow  slept  peacefully,  and  so 
gradually  came  back  to  life. 

We  never  quite  knew  the  particulars 
of  the  robbery,  for  when  Joe  was  well 
enough  to  talk  we  avoided  speaking  of  it. 
Dr.  Loring  said,  "  The  boy  only  partly 
remembers  it,  like  a  dream,  and  it  is  bet- 
ter he  should  forget  it  altogether  ;  he  will 
do  so  as  he  gets  stronger.  Send  him 
home  to  his  mother  for  a  while,  and  if  he 
returns  to  you,  let  it  be  to  the  country 
house  where  there  is  nothing  to  remind 
him  of  all  this." 

Joe  did  get  strong,  and  came  back  to 
us,  but  no  longer  as  a  page-boy  ;  he  was 
[130] 


; 


H 


e  would  not  move  from  Joe's  side 
for  fear  he  might  wake  and  miss 
him.  -Pas'  '30. 


How  He  Left  Us 
C 


under-gardener,  and  his  time  was  spent 
among  his  favorite  flowers  and  pet  ani- 
mals, until  one  day  Dick  wrote  to  say 
his  father  had  bought  more  land  to  be 
laid  out  in  gardens,  and  if  Joe  could  be 
spared  he  and  Dick  could  work  together, 
and  in  time  set  up  for  themselves  in  the 
business. 

So  Joe  left  us,  but  not  to  forget  us,  or 
be  forgotten.  On  each  anniversary  of  my 
birthday,  I  find  a  bunch  of  magnificent 
roses  on  my  breakfast- table — "  With 
J.  and  R.  Cole's  respectful  duty,"  and 
I  know  the  sender  is  a  fine,  strong  young 
market-gardener ;  but  sometimes  I  look 
back  a  few  years,  and  instead  of  the 
lovely  roses,  and  the  big,  healthy  giver, 
I  seem  to  see  a  faded,  dusty  bunch  of 
wild  flowers,  held  towards  me  by  the  lit- 
tle hot  hand  of  a  tired  child  with  large 
[-31] 


The  Story  of  J.  Cole 


blue  eyes,  and  I  hear  a  timid  voice  say — 
"  Please  'm,  it's  J.  Cole ;  and  I've  come 
to  stay  with  yer !  " 


THE  END 


[132] 


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